


Stormblood: A Hero's Burden

by AbyssWalk3r



Series: The Fallen Hero: Rise of the Warrior of Twilight [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Dark Knight Angst, F/M, Grynewaht Will Suffer, Hoo boy here we go, Multi, Resistance Is In For A Bad Time, Samurai Suffering, So Is Magnai
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-02-15 00:20:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 34
Words: 171,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13019298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbyssWalk3r/pseuds/AbyssWalk3r
Summary: Nidhogg is dead, as is King Thordan and the Knights of the Round, and the Dragonsong War has finally reached its conclusion. Ishgard has once again retaken its place in the Eorzean Alliance, and the four city-states turn their gaze east, to their fallen sister state of Ala Mhigo. A Storm of Blood awaits them and the rebuilt Fourteenth Legion as Castor van Entialpoh and his brethren fight to atone for their sins.Ala Mhigo and Doma await, as the next chapter is written in the tale of the Warrior of Twilight.





	1. Stormblood: Tale's Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go, my friends! I've been looking forward to this!

"Now, focus, gaze into your past. Into the darkness that fills you," the old, knowing voice commanded. "What is it that stains your soul?" 

He delved deep into the events of the last several months, faces flashing by in rivulets of blood and violence. It had been nearly a year since Thordan, since Nidhogg. 

"One life for one world! Is that too much to ask?!" The Warriors of Darkness stood before him, the dying light of their crystals sustaining them once again as they heaved their bloody, beaten bodies up off the ground. 

"Your world is dead, as are you," came his voice. "Allow me to put your spirits to rest and end your vain struggle." 

He'd slaughtered them all, reducing once-mighty warriors to nothing as he painted Ifrit's holy ground in their blood and offal. Hydaelyn had destroyed their world, drowning it in Light, and so these desperate souls had turned to the Dark to try to save it. 

Fools, the lot of them. They could not save what was already gone. 

Then it was Azys Lla: the final clash between the Fourteenth and Sixth legions, deep in the bowels of the Flagship.

Regula van Hydrus fell to his knees, his bastardbluss clanking against the floor as he gazed up at he who had bested him.

"So, this is how it ends?" The old legatus intoned, his mechanized voice filled with pain and sorrow. 

The Sixth legion was done for: this had been one last, desperate attempt to get at the secrets of the Allagans, even though the previous excursions had all failed miserably. They'd awoken the Warring Triad: Sephirot, the Fiend; Sophia, the Goddess; and Zurvan, the Demon, and now Castor van Entialpoh had three more eikons nestled within the depths of his soul. 

"This is how it ends, Regula van Hydrus," he could hear the fading sounds of clashing steel and of the dying as the Fourteenth mopped up what was left of their opposition. "The Sixth legion is finished." 

"I underestimated you," Regula murmured, his ravaged armor leaking blood and mechanical fluids. 

"You did, and you foolishly believed you stood a chance against me," Castor chuckled, reaching down to claim Regula's bastardbluss for himself. 

The blade was heavy, yet strong, the owner of the single scratch now marring Castor's obsidian plate. 

"Do it, Castor van Entialpoh," Regula murmured softly. "Free me from the shackles of this accursed nightmare." 

Steel punctured flesh, and the last of the Sixth legion had fallen. 

The world rippled once again, this time focusing on a much more recent event: Baelsar's Wall, manned by soldiers of Gyr Abania's Twelfth legion, burning as that bastard Ilberd's soldiers ran rampant through the maze of magitek. When that M'naago woman had stumbled into the Rising Stones, bleeding and begging for aid, Castor had suspected a trap or perhaps some other ploy meant to force the Alliance's hand, but he wasn't expecting stolen Alliance uniforms and the gods-damned Eyes of Nidhogg. 

The Griffon, Ilberd, had trapped and murdered his own people for the sake of the eikon now hovering above the Wall, contained by Papalymo's sacrifice. 

Castor had tried to convince the Lalafell that he could fight whatever eikon was appearing, that Papalymo didn't have to sacrifice himself, but the mage had shaken his head with a sad smile. 

"Take care of Yda for me, Castor. Please," he'd begged, desperation in his eyes as his child-like features were bathed in otherworldly light. 

"I will." 

"Thank you, and I'm sorry for everything I've said to you. You are a true hero, after all," Papalymo had turned away, focusing on the creation to come, and Castor had watched at his side as the mage had given his life to seal the beast the Domans had called Shinryu. 

There was more, yet he was out of time. Through the cold winds of Coerthas, he could feel the approaching presence of the one he sought. 

Castor opened his eyes, releasing his thoughts and rising from his meditation. His katana was the only blade on his hip, accompanied by Zantetsuken's fell hilt, and his thick black armor weighed him down as he got to his feet. 

Armor he'd designed, himself, and forged out of Odin's own Herkeladi, to serve as a badge for his new position as legatus of the Fourteenth legion. Regula had been the only one to put even a miniscule scratch on the plating covering his left arm, and Castor had amended the slight weakness in the metal. 

The scars left behind by Nidhogg's Eyes still ached whenever he moved, but the padding he'd added to cover both was doing a stellar job of reducing the damage the gashes would take while he was moving. They'd healed at an impressive rate, to say the least, but the pain was still a constant nuisance that trailed him around everywhere. 

"So, you've come," the samurai approaching him intoned, his hakama swaying in the wind and the conical hat he wore obscuring his features. 

"Kogarashi," Castor replied, his master's wizened features rising in surprise. 

"You knew?" The old samurai asked, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I cannot say I'm surprised." 

"Master Musosai, allow me to free you from the sins of your past," Castor unsheathed his katana with a single, fluid motion, the fine length of steel singing in his grasp.

At least this would be a welcome distraction while he awaited word from Cid and Nero concerning their preparations. They were to head to Cartenaeu, apparently, because Nero knew of something that could contend with the eikon called Shinryu. 

Musosai, also bearing the name of Kogarashi, smiled grimly as he unsheathed his own katana. "No more training: this will be a fight to the death!" 

The old samurai sprinted over the snow with a master swordsman's preturnatural grace, dancing about here and there in an attempt to confuse his pupil. 

Unfortunately for him, Castor was a master in his own right, and he wouldn't be so easily fooled by smoke and mirrors. Castor kept his calm, watched, then flicked his katana out just in time to deflect Musosai's real strike. Steel shrieked, and the faintest of pressures lightly pushed against Castor's strength. 

Musosai dashed about with blinding speed, his blade skittering against Castor's armor but doing naught other than scattering sparks. He was outmatched and outclassed, and both of them knew it. 

Castor reached again into his calm, drew upon the power of his soul, and pushed it into the shimmering steel blade of his katana. With one gleaming movement, the elegant blade whispered forth from its scabbard at blinding speed, Musosai groaning as sharpened steel slammed into his flesh. 

The old samurai was thrown by the sheer strength of his pupil, his blade spinning before it stabbed the ground several paces away and rose into the air. Scarlet painted the snows, gushing from the torn clothing the old samurai wore, and Castor stepped closer as Musosai's ragged breathing reached his ears. 

"Well done...with but a single stroke..." The old man wheezed, blood weeping from the corner of his mouth. "You have surpassed me, my pupil. Or perhaps you have already done so...from the very beginning." 

"Stop! Stop it, Castor!" Momozigo was sprinting towards the two samurai as quickly as his little legs would carry him, tears freely falling down the showman's face. "Stop this now!" 

The Lalafell all but threw himself over Musosai to shield him, his eyes blazing. "What are you doing?!" 

"Momozigo... _I_  am the evil I traveled to Heirs Ear to destroy," the old man rasped. "I am Kogarashi." 

Castor gazed down at the old samurai, feeling the remorse and self-hatred that bubbled within that frail chest. 

"Finish me...Castor...such evil...cannot be suffered..." 

Castor sheathed his katana and inhaled deeply, drawing upon the power imbued within the blade, and Momozigo shut his eyes as steel whispered against leather. 

Momozigo and Musosai both opened their eyes, surprise and wonder on their faces as they gazed up at Castor. 

Tears flowed from Musosai, streaming down his wrinkled face as all of his pain drained away from him. "Absolved me of my crimes...have you? Thank you...Castor...at last...I can find peace." 

Castor nodded to his master, bowing one last time to the samurai who loved his homeland and his people with all he had. "Rest well, Master Musosai. Your honor has been cleaned of all stains." 

Musosai's frail chest rattled off one last breath, and with that faint exhalation went the crimes and pain that weighed down his soul: both which should have never been his to carry, to begin with. 

"His suffering is over," Castor murmured, gazing down at Musosai's peaceful face. "Momozigo, let us bury him." 

Right as he said that, the aetherial bond he shared with a certain Doman shinobi buzzed, and her soothing voice filled his mind. 

"Castor, Cid's ready! We're waiting for you in Gridania!" 

"Damn!" Castor muttered aloud, drawing a frown from Momozigo. "Forgive me, Momozigo, but I'm needed in Gridania."

The Lalafell balked for a moment before understanding crossed his features. "That thing over Baelsar's Wall, right? I'm certain all of Eorzea has heard of it by now...I'll take care of Musosai." 

"I'll be back as quickly as I can," Castor promised, reaching up to his neck and touching the smooth crystal that was hanging from it. 

The Lifestream pulled him into its currents, tugging him through the fabrics between worlds.

_Well done, Castor. Your swordsmanship is breathtaking to behold, as always._

"Thanks, Nhaama. How are you and Azim holding up?" 

The Dusk Mother materialized in the stream at his side, lazily lounging upon her side as she grinned at him. "We're fine. I'd like to think that we've gotten used to hosting you and to drawing Nidhogg's spirit from your wounds." 

"I'm glad to hear that you haven't been suffering any undue consequences," Castor nodded, pretending to ignore Nhaama as her presence settled upon his side. "I'm about to reach Gridania." 

Nhaama hummed lazily, and a peek at her showed her mischievous grin burning into his side.  "What?" 

"Well, just remember who your benefactors are and whose souls are bound to yours, my beloved little champion," the Dusk Mother purred as her slender, yet strong, fingers brushed against his cheek. "Even though you styled your hair like that." 

Castor sighed, knowing all too well what was going to be coming next. "I know, Nhaama: you and Azim are parts of me, but so is Yugiri. And I like my hair!"  

"But, you are mine," Nhaama growled, and Castor could feel the end of the Stream approaching. "Don't forget that." 

As expected, his possessive benefactor pressed her cool lips to his cheek before light blinded him. His body pieced itself back together, and Castor registered the lush green Gridanian lands around him. 

"See? I told you it would work," Yugiri said at his side, the pale crystal around her neck a twin to Castor's own. 

"Well, let's go!" Cid snapped, and the floor began to hum. 

Oh, he was on the  _Enterprise_.  

"Hey, Castor!" Yda hugged him, but the gesture lacked her usual enthusiasm.

Castor returned the gesture, a faint spark of rage enkindling within his breast once he felt how tightly she clung to him.

The airship lifted off into the air, rising and gliding through the great expanse. Yugiri nestled against him as Yda pulled away and sat down, ignoring a raised eyebrow from that Gosetsu fellow.

"The pain isn't as bad today, is it?" She mused, her voice soothing his spirit. 

"It isn't," he nodded, reaching up and placing a great hand upon her lithe shoulder. 

"Shadow-walker, you had not told me you were courting this...warrior," Gosetsu spoke up, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

He knew about Castor, and perhaps a viler word had been on his tongue instead of 'warrior'. 

Yugiri flushed beet red, but didn't move away from Castor as she shot Gosetsu an annoyed glare. "I am not courting Castor, Gosetsu!" 

"Could have fooled me," Gosetsu grunted.

Castor ignored him, sighing as he stared ahead at the oncoming wastes of Cartenaeu far off in the distance. He knew that the Alliance had some sort of civilized free-for-all type combat going on between the three Grand Companies over the Allagan ruins unearthed by Bahamut, but he'd managed to avoid being sent to the front by the Serpents. 

If anything, the Flames and the Maelstrom had him banned from entering any of the Grand Company clashes, stating that he was, quite correctly, far too powerful and would give the Twin Adders an unfair advantage. 

The skies darkened and the lush greenery gave way to the ruined canyons of Cartenaeu, Castor bracing himself as Bahamut stirred deep within his prison. The aether in the air still held a trace of the wyrm's power in it, drawing memories of fire and death to the forefront of his mind. 

Bahamut screaming overhead as the world descended into a blazing, screaming inferno, people exploding and dying all around him as he struggled to make his way after the soldiers he'd seen pursuing the Seedseer. 

"Come, come! We must focus on what is at hand!" Nero's sneering voice cut through the memory. "Like it matters who the 'legate' is courting or bedding!" 

"Shut up, Nero," Castor growled, pausing as his communicator buzzed. "Speak." 

"Make up your mind, Entialpoh!" Nero growled, grunting as Yugiri's fist slammed into his unarmored gut. 

"My lord, our sensors have you heading to the ruins of Cartenaeu!" Severus tol Aurelius' voice reached through the comm. "Would you have us send reinforcements?" 

Castor opened his mouth to refuse, but a thought hit him that made him reconsider. 

"Yes, actually. I get the feeling the Twelfth will be sending soldiers to meet us," his gaze returned to the far off Gyr Abania as the airship cruised over various battlements and partitions built by the Grand Companies to aid them in their skirmishes. 

"Oh? The curs of Garlemald will meet us on the field of battle?" Gosetsu gave Castor a suspicious frown. "And how would you know that?" 

"A guess," Castor replied, listening as Nero began giving directions to Cid to descend.

Below was a plethora of Allagan platforms rising from the craggy, ruined landscape, some sort of scarlet-colored terminal rising from one such platform. 

"That's what we came here for," he guessed, and Nero nodded. 

"Sharp legate, aren't you?" The former tribune sneered, but Castor again ignored him. "I've already reactivated the teleportation, before you ask. The terminal is in full working order!"

"Congratulations. Cid, I want you to follow him," Castor turned his gaze to the distant hills, already spotting the approaching squadron of Garlean soldiers. "We'll hold off these rabble."

"Rabble? What are you-oh," Cid frowned down at the approaching soldiers. "I take it you just called for backup from the Fourteenth?" 

"Yes. Think you can keep Nero in line while we rout them?" Castor asked, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the muscles.

The injuries from the Eyes burned, still, but it was much more tolerable than it had been in the past. 

Even then, he still had issues moving his body in the ways rigorous combat demanded, forcing him to rely more on brute strength rather than finesse. Speed and power were his friends, and he was a master of utilizing both. 

"I should think so!" Cid chuckled. "Biggs, take the wheel and get the ship out of here once we're off!" 

The  _Enterprise_  descended, hovering closer to the platforms, and Castor leaped off with Yugiri and Yda at his side. Nero and Cid followed, then Gosetsu, powerful legs slamming into Allagan magitek one after the other. 

"Good luck!" Biggs called, the ship's powerful engines blasting the party with condensed wind as the vessel rose into the air. 

Metallic clanking drew his attention, and Castor's gaze settled upon the Garleans approaching, being led by a towering Roegadyn with green skin and armor and closely-cropped red hair. 

"Well, well! I was sent to check a suspect airship, and what do I find?" The brute's grin already got on his nerves, accentuated by the small bandage crossing the bridge of his nose. "The traitors Garlond and Entialpoh! It's as if all my namedays have come at once!" 

"Traitor?" Gosetsu murmured, eyeing the black soldiers as they fanned out behind their large leader. 

"Ugh, of all the scouts the Empire could have sent..." Cid muttered, and Nero vanished in a burst of bright light. "Damn it! I'll not let Nero poke around with who knows what in there! I'll leave these idiots to you and yours: they have no idea who they're up against." 

With that, Garlond vanished in Nero's wake, leaving the well-armed parties alone with one another. 

The brute of an Imperial hefted a massive hammer from his back and brandished it wildly. "Come on, then! I'll crush the lot of you, myself!" 

Castor strode forward and unsheathed the katana he'd become so familiar with under Musosai's teachings. "So, who wants first crack at him?" 

Yugiri and Yda immediately joined him, weapons in hand and determined expressions on their faces. 

"We're with you," Yugiri murmured as Gosetsu unsheathed his own katana at her side. 

"I am Gosetsu, samurai of Doma!" The proud warrior bellowed. "Come meet your end on my blade!" 

The brutish Imperial stomped forward, baying like a beast as he brandished his massive hammer, and Castor's allies rushed to meet him. He was very slow, Castor noted as he hung back, keeping a wary eye on the legionnaires watching their leader fight.

That hammer swept out with brutal strength, but it was so slow, none of his own allies had any difficulty in dancing around each strike. Yda was darting about this way and that, her fists a blur of shrieking metal as her caesti pounded dent after dent into the Imperial's armor. Yugiri and Gosetsu were wreaking havoc, their blades seeking out the Imperial's soft spots as he bellowed with rage and attempted to crush Yda with the heavy haft of his weapon. 

"Don't just stand there!" He finally screamed at his allies, many of whom were shaking their heads and cursing him under their breaths. "Help me!" 

"To think that nearly an entire cohort had been dispatched, and this idiot can't even hit three people," one man muttered as the legionnaires reluctantly unsheathed black steel and advanced. 

Castor raised his wrist cannon and fired, the explosive shot of dark magic striking the platform in front of the Imperial reinforcements and halting them.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," he warned, aiming his curved blade at them. "Unless you desperately want to die today." 

"Like we have any choice," one legionnaire spat. "Either you kill us, or Lord Zenos or his officers will. At least our families won't be hunted for treason if we die on your blade." 

"Such is the dilemma of those forced to bend the knee to tyranny," Castor lamented, shaking his head slowly. 

"What are you waiting for?! Kill 'em!" The brute screamed, metal shrieking as his armor met someone's blade. 

"Grynewaht, I swear I'd kill you, myself, if you weren't such a brute," one legionnaire growled. 

"Accursed glory seeker," another muttered. "He expects us to just attack the Legatus of the Fourteenth? Has he not heard the stories of this guy?" 

"You can still walk away," Castor offered, even though he knew they couldn't. 

Either they died by his hand, or their innocent families suffered. Such was the life of a conscript in the Garlean legions. 

"I'd like nothing more, but we can't," the soldiers readied weapons once again. "At least make it quick, huh?" 

Castor nodded. "You have my word." 

They charged as one, their half-hearted cries puncturing Castor's resolve even as his own blade whipped out with blinding speed and carved into their flesh. 

True to his word: each man died quickly with minimal pain, their bodies crumpling onto the flats of Cartenaeu.

"Eh?! Bloody useless, the lot of you!" Grynewaht snarled from behind him, and another sound caught Castor's attention: the approaching cadence of magitek weaponry. "Ha! Get 'im! Kill 'im!" 

Another wave of legionnaires swarmed towards the platform, accompanied by a plethora of Colossi and Vanguards. Castor aimed his cannon and clenched his muscles, depressing the built-in trigger, and the weapon spat out bolts of magical energy at the oncoming horde. 

Explosions rocked their ranks, sending black soldiers falling in heaps upon the ground. The great automatons attempted to interpose themselves into the midst of the bullet storm, but their mechanical bodies didn't fare any better as holes were ripped into their great frames. 

The survivors who could move backed away frantically, alarmed shouts and screams of agony filling the air. 

"You try to flee! Gutless cur!" Castor glanced back as Gosetsu slammed into a running Grynewaht, forcing the Imperial to turn and face the samurai. 

Yugiri and Yda were hot on his heels, both voices raised into battle cries as they continued harassing the brute. His sheer strength and fortitude was impressive, to say the least: not many could stand against both Yda and Yugiri at the same time and hold their ground so easily. 

All brawn, no brains: the perfect blunt instrument. Castor almost pitied him. 

The ground trembled, and Castor looked back up to see another squadron of Imperial soldiers stampeding towards the skirmish with a large number of automatons at their heel.

"Did they send an entire damned cohort after us?" He wondered, right as his communicator buzzed.

"My lord! We're nearly there! Hold on!" 

The whining of distant airships reached his keen ears, and Castor turned his gaze upwards to see half a dozen vessels inscribed with the new golden insignia of the Fourteenth Legion: a serpentine dragon curling around a full moon. 

The dragon (a sun dragon, to be exact), had been Severus' idea, while, predictably, Nhaama had urged him to make the full moon the centerpiece. 

To mark a new beginning. 

"Whose airships are those?!" One of the Imperials shouted.

"I don't recognize that sigil!" 

Castor chuckled as he turned back to his mystified enemies. "You face the reborn Fourteenth Legion!" 

The ships cruised closer to the earth, the soldiers clustering by each vessel's rails looking almost completely different than they had nearly a year before. The ships slowed to a hover, blasting the flats with condensed air, and the legionnaires under Castor's command dropped down to the ground. 

"Ave, legatus!" They chanted, raising fists to their hearts before thrusting them outwards. 

Scarlet tunics of thick, advanced fibers were tucked underneath thick black plates of masterfully forged magitek-enhanced steel, black and gold armored boots offering protection over black breeches. Their helms were still the standard Imperial pot, but heavily modified. The visors all had black lenses of thin magitek that allowed them to see in several light spectrums. 

The new equipment had been difficult to make and expensive as hell, but the quite extensive revenue generated by trading with merchant caravans and the other city-states had more than filled the legion's coffers. Ceruleum was quite a catch, was it not? Especially when the legion's in command of the only refinery of the stuff in all Eorzea. 

"Well, it looks like the new armor was finally cleared for combat use," Castor mused as dozens of legionnaires closed ranks around him. 

"I'm eager to see how they'll perform," Severus tol Aurelius commented as he joined his lord. "I can only hope my designs outstrip whoever did theirs." 

"I have every confidence they do," Castor replied. "Now, let's put them to the test." 

"Yes, my lord!" Severus drew his gunblade and aimed it at the stunned Imperials. "Forward! No mercy!"

Hoarse shouts rattled from dozens of throats, and Castor watched as his soldiers surged towards their foes. Such fearlessness, even in the face of Colossi and Vangaurds...they filled his heart with pride.

Oh, wait, the automatons. Castor should probably take care of those. 

He raised his mounted cannon and squeezed off a plethora of shots, blowing holes in machinery left and right. 

The Fourteenth and Twelfth legions clashed on the flats of Cartenaeu, filling the air with the din of clashing steel and booming gunfire. Castor kept a keen eye on the skirmish, pleased to see how well his soldiers were keeping their ranks intact and driving into the Twelfth as a full, unified body. 

Steel glittered and flashed in the mechanical light, streaks of bullet-fire tracing the air or punching into bodies with loud shrieks. 

"Fall back! Fall back!" A man bellowed. "I am  _not_  dying because that idiot Grynewaht can't fight his own battles!" 

The Imperials almost immediately broke off from the fighting, scrambling away as quickly as their feet could carry them and leaving their wounded and dead on the flats. Healers were moving amongst the Fourteenth's soldiers as they regrouped, gentle green light flickering as they closed what wounds they could. 

Most of the corpses on the ground were the Twelfth's soldiers, but Castor bit down a curse at the sight of several of the Fourteenth's troops lying broken on the flats, throats cut. 

"Well, the only fatal blows our enemies could land were on the throats," Severus muttered, bitterness in his voice. "I'll have to update the design, maybe make something similar to chain mail to cover it." 

Castor nodded slowly, studying the damaged plates and cut fibers on the rest of the bodies. "The rest of the materials held up very nicely. Minimal damage that can easily be fixed with the supplies we've been getting." 

"Indeed. With the revenue we've been getting from the city-states, it should prove easy to purchase more supplies from the merchant caravans," Severus agreed. 

Castor glanced back to see how his friends were faring with Grynewaht, only to raise an eyebrow at the sight of the Roegadyn barreling towards him. 

"Die, die, die!" The brute shrieked, his great hammer careening in a brutal overhand swing. 

Castor raised his hand, ignoring the spike of pain from his lower torso, and his arm trembled as he caught Grynewaht's strike. His muscles trembled as he contested the brute's considerable strength, more pain wracking his nerves as he pushed back. 

Grynewaht was impressive, to say the least, in the sheer strength department. Castor's body ached as he pushed back against the massive Imperial's strength, but he refused to yield. Mustering his strength, he heaved against Grynewaht, sneering at the brute's stunned mewl as his fingers closed around the thick stump of his neck. 

"I suppose you tried," Castor commented. "Now, run along, little worm: you aren't even worth killing yet." 

Grynewaht flailed in an attempt to break free, but Castor held his grip fast as he heaved the massive Imperial after his fellows. The Roegadyn bounced off the platform once, twice, skidding to a halt with a bleeding, shredded face before he pushed himself back up and took off with surprising speed.

"Well, that solves that," Castor mused, his gaze roaming across the carpet of corpses. "You know what to do to the survivors, Severus."

His Tribunus tensed, then nodded. "Yes, my lord." 

"You know it has to be done: if we do not kill them, then their families will face the Empire's execution squads for suspected treason," the words were bitter on his tongue, but he forced them out. 

Such was the way Garlemald's tyranny ground out the rights of those they deemed inferior. 

"That Imperial was strong," Yugiri murmured as she and Yda strode over to Castor. "He nearly overpowered us."

"All brawn, no brain," Castor replied. "Even I was hard-pressed to match him." 

"You sure? Because you certainly threw him around pretty easily," Yda gazed at the terminal. "We just go in there, right?"

Castor reached out and placed a hand upon the woman's shoulder, nodding as she glanced up at him. "Aye. Let's go." 

The four of them strode over to the terminal, Castor's fingers clicking against the keys as he copied the command he'd seen Cid give it. Light enshrouded him. 

The world snapped back into focus, making Yda stumble as she tried to regain her balance. Castor's strong hand once again gripped her shoulder, preventing her from falling on her face.

"T-thanks," she muttered, the guilt of not being able to stand on her own burning her heart once again.

Papalymo...this has to be worth you. By Ralgr, this hurt even more than Moenbryda...But he was here. Castor was here, at her side. 

That alone was enough to lift some of the pain from her heart.

"Think nothing of it," he said gently, his strong hand squeezing her shoulder before he strode towards a plethora of technology that made her head spin just looking at it. 

Cid and Nero were darting back and forth, foreign technological terms Yda couldn't hope to understand spilling from their lips as they inputted commands into a large terminal with brightly glowing screens. 

Some sort of insect-like machine was displayed on the main viewscreen, rotating as various datafeeds scrolled by certain highlighted parts. 

"Omega is ready!" Cid finally announced, not even sparing the newcomers a glance. "Have our friends been routed?" 

"Yes. The Fourteenth lost many soldiers defending against the Twelfth, but we will persevere," Castor intoned, his voice seeming distant and hollow for some reason, but Yda couldn't tear her gaze off of the large, glowing button resting before Cid's outstretched hand. 

"So, we just hit that?" She stepped forward, drawing a surprised look from the engineer. 

"Uh, yeah," he frowned at her, but withdrew his hand. 

Yda stared at the button, Papalymo's last words to her burning through her heart. Castor had stayed behind to ensure that the spell wouldn't be interrupted, but Yda had been forced to leave. 

"Papalymo...I'll make this worth you, I promise," she whispered. "For everything you've done...For me and for so many others." 

She raised her fist and slammed it onto the button, and immediately the screens glowed blue as alarms blared to life. 

"Containment protocols detaching," an automated voice announced. "Releasing Omega."

"There it goes," Cid murmured, his gaze locked onto the data rising from the screens. "It's heading immediately for the Wall, good. To think that its sensors could pick up that cocoon from so far away..." 

"Uh, Garlond?" Nero was staring at another readout, this one a display of the insect machine apparently named Omega. "Didn't you check to ensure that Omega's structures were cleared of any debris?" 

Cid glared at the ex-Imperial. "Yes, I did: there was nothing." 

Nero pointed at a red, flashing dot on the readout. "Then what has gotten onto Omega?" 

"What? Hold on..." Cid typed in another command, his eyes darting back and forth as he worked, and another screen flared to life. "Oh. My. Gods." 

Even Yda's jaw dropped as her mind shut down. 

The screen showed a live feed of Omega's movements as it scuttled over the Wall's battlements and ramparts, scurrying towards the massive cocoon shining in the still-burning twilight. 

"There it is!" Castor van Entialpoh shouted, holding onto some sort of spine rising from Omega's back as he  _rode the_ _Allagan_ _construct into battle_. "Let's see what you're made of, Omega!" 

"By the kami! Castor!" Yugiri was staring, wide-eyed with shock, at the screen. "I never even sensed him leave! H-how did he get onto that thing?!" 

"W-well, the new legatus is...fearless," Nero, too, was at a loss for words, his mouth agape as he stared at the display. 

Omega scuttled towards the massive cocoon, different ports opening up around its strange-looking body, and a volley of missiles streaked into the sky. 

The cocoon exploded, Yda's heart shattering as her friend's aetherial prison dissolved into nothingness, and a massive serpentine dragon that towered over Nidhogg, himself, settled into the skies. And then it exploded as Omega's missiles honed in on it. 

The beast's enraged roar shook the console, rattling Yda's ears, and all present watched in stunned fascination as eikon and machine proceeded to unleash hell upon one another. The screens lit up with explosions as the two powerful beings scribed the skies with missile fire or bursts of aetherial energy. 

"How the hells is he holding onto Omega?" Cid wondered, Yda's eyes transfixed upon the dark form of her friend. 

He was firing at the dragon, too, bolts of dark energy bouncing off of the creature's massive scales and doing naught but making it angry. 

"Gods, these readings!" Cid was staring at some data feeds, his eyes wide. "What is that thing doing?" 

The dragon's left wing shone ominously, and the world bent around him. A wave of water crashed onto Omega, utterly drowning Baelsar's Wall under a tidal wave. After scarcely a moment, Omega burst through the surface, mechanical whirring shaking the air as it streaked skyward towards the dragon. 

Said dragon roared and soared away from Omega before pivoting in mid-air, incredible power condensing around it. Omega's 'face' shone with powerful energy of its own, and two massive beams connected the demons. 

A bright explosion bloomed, and the feed went black. 

"Damn!" Cid swore, his fingers flying across the keys. "We’ve lost the feed!"

"Initiating lockdown," Nero reported, mirroring Cid's movements. "If the Garleans get to Omega, it won't respond to them."

Yda turned back to the men, opening her mouth to speak.

"We have to go, now!" Yugiri took the words straight from her. "We have to find Castor!" 

"Already on it!" Cid hit a button on his communicator. "Biggs, bring the ship back here! We have to get back to Gridania, on the double!"

"Aye, aye!" 

Yda's neck burned, and her fingers reached up to touch what she knew would be bare skin. 

That's it, then...Papalymo's truly...

"Yda, come!" Yugiri grabbed her hand and dragged her through the nauseating teleporter once again.

The next few moments were a blur: Yda couldn't get Papalymo out of her mind or Castor out of her heart as she whispered soft prayers for his safety. 

"There he is, that mad bastard!" Cid's shout drew her attention back to reality, and Yda was startled to see herself back in the Black Shroud, staring at the distant Castrum Oriens and Baelsar's Wall. 

Castor was standing before the Gridanian guard tower, arms crossed as he watched the airship descend. Several squadrons of Fourteenth legionnaires, clad as they were in their new armor, were assembled around the tower, scrambling about as they prepared for...whatever it was Castor was having them do. 

Yugiri leaped off the ship the second they drew close to the earth, landing lightly and sprinting up to Castor before smacking her open palm across his face. He barely even flinched.

"What were you thinking?!" She demanded, the steel in her voice and eyes enough to make even Yda wince. "Riding that...that thing into battle against Shinryu!"

Castor raised an eyebrow. "That dragon's name is Shinryu? Fascinating." 

"Castor!" Yugiri snarled, only for Gosetsu to grab her shoulder and murmur something into her ear. 

Yda wasn't sure what to think of the old samurai: he'd shown up randomly in the Rising Stones, nearly making Yugiri faint with relief and fear all at once, and he'd chosen to stick with them as the party had made their way through the chaos of Baelsar's Wall. 

He'd disliked Castor from the very beginning, and apparently rumors of the Fourteenth Legion's turning against the Empire with a new legatus at its head had been spreading through the provinces like wildfire. The legion's betrayal had spurred further unrest throughout the conquered, and the Empire was stamping out the flames of unrest with every passing day. 

"What? Fine," Yugiri nodded absently, jolting as Gosetsu led her away. 

Yda turned her gaze to where the cocoon had been, where Papalymo had sacrificed himself, and bitter tears stung her eyes. He was gone. Forever. 

"Yda! Castor!" Alphinaud and Y'shtola had rushed over from the spire. "You're safe, praise the Twelve!" 

Krile Baldesion, a recent addition to the group who'd sought them out when Alexander had been unearthed, was rushing behind Alphinaud, her cat-ear hood shifting atop her head. 

"We saw the fighting..." The Lalafell murmured, her gaze locked upon the skies. "So much power..."

"Yda, what happened to your tattoos?" Castor's voice sent a chill up her spine, and once again her hand reached up to brush her bare neck. 

Papalymo was gone; there was no need to keep pretending to be Yda. To shame her sister's memory with her own weakness. 

"It's time I stopped wearing my sister's mask," she murmured aloud. "I hardly deserve to even pretend to be her." 

Her hands reached up and she removed the turban, freeing her long ponytail and relieving the pressure on her neck. With that done, she turned and offered her allies a smile. 

"My name's not Yda, it's-"

"Lyse," Castor rumbled, his eyes glittering with a thousand conflicted emotions. "Your real name is Lyse." 

Her mind froze, mouth hanging agape as she stared at the towering Au ra. "Y-you knew?" 

He didn't answer immediately, sorrow, rage, and something else she couldn't decipher warring within his golden solar irises. The conflicting emotions closed off behind a mental wall, and a wry smile formed upon his lips. 

"You talk in your sleep. A lot," he finally spoke in a hoarse voice. "I've heard you mention the name 'Lyse' more than once, and since you said your name wasn't Yda, it was only a logical conclusion to draw." 

"And, if we're being totally honest, you didn't fool us, either," Y'shtola said with a sly smirk. "Papalymo asked us to play along, so we did." 

Heh...to think that everyone had known, since the very beginning. Her entire act had been worthless. And to think that Castor had found out in what had to have been the most embarrassing way possible. 

"Lyse or Yda: it matters not," Castor nodded his head, horns bowing at the movement. "You are still my friend, and I will stand by you." 

A hefty weight lifted from her heart, and a smile crept upon her lips. "I...thank you, Castor. What's our next step?" 

His powerful gaze turned back to the Wall, the dying sun flickering off of his pitch-black plate. "Raubahn's securing what's left of the castrum, and then I'm certain he'll be sending the Scions to establish a line of communications with the Ala Mhigan Resistance. The Fourteenth Legion will act as advance troops, harrying the Twelfth at every turn and....and making ready to atone for our sins against Ala Mhigo." 

The gritty pain in his voice churned on Yda's heart, and she fought the urge to embrace him. 

His gaze was riveted on the storm to come, on the blood to be shed and the corpses to be buried. War was coming, and the songs of freedom would once again be sung in Ala Mhigo. 

Liberty or Death...I still remember, Father. 


	2. Rhalgr's Reach

"Castor," Yugiri's raw voice pierced him just as terribly as the anguish radiating from her heart. "We need to talk." 

Gosetsu's arrival had been the final sign: she was needed back in Doma, and Castor could not go with her.

"You have to go," he said softly, the pain radiating from her confirming his suspicions. "Lord Hien has called you back to Doma." 

The shinobi buried her face into his torso, wrapping her lithe arms around him as she pulled him to her. "Forgive me, my beloved friend. I don't want to leave you, but...I cannot forsake my duty." 

"And I wouldn't ask you to," he murmured, the warmth of her body against his filling his very heart. "Yugiri...I'm sorry I cannot go with you." 

"You are not to blame, and I will keep this crystal close," she murmured, fingering the twin to the crystal he wore around his neck. "As long as it is here, you will never leave me." 

"As you will never leave me," he replied, glad that the shadows of the Gridanian night hid them from prying eyes. 

An idea hit him, and Castor reached down and dug into his Soul Crystals.

"Hmm?" Yugiri pulled back, curious, and her eyes narrowed as he produced his dim Soul of the Paladin. 

"Take it: it will serve me no longer, but it will protect you in your time of need," he pushed the crystal into her hand and closed her fingers around it. "You are pure of heart: it will not forsake you." 

Her weary eyes turned upwards, seeking his, and the pain in her beautiful irises put a knife through his heart. Castor lifted his hand and rested his palm upon her porcelain cheek, gently rubbing the pale scales crossing her flesh. 

"Yugiri...I will come for you in Doma, as soon as we are done here," his mind was already going forward, seeking alternatives and answers. "Zenos yae Galvus is the rightful viceroy of Doma and Ala Mhigo, so I have little doubt that we will be fighting him in both nations." 

"We will take him together," Yugiri whispered, leaning into his touch as her heart sang into his own. "My beloved friend...my beloved Castor...I will await our reunion with the fondest of hearts." 

"As will I," his adoration of her turned his insides into an aching reactor, his soul yearning to keep her close. 

She smiled that gentle smile that melted his anger and soothed the agony that forever clung to him. "Castor...I love you, my dearest friend. May our hearts stay bound even in this chaos."

"And I love you, my dearest friend," he answered, crouching to rest his forehead against hers. 

"Shadow-walker! Come! We make for Doma! For Lord Hien!" Gosetsu's voice broke the night as he sought out the shinobi. "Yugiri!" 

Yugiri sighed, the prospect of returning home warming her heart. "I must away, it seems. Good luck, Castor." 

"Good luck, Yug-" his words devolved into a muffled grunt as Yugiri's soft lips met his own for the second time, her hands seeking his own.

The world swam and sharpened into focus all at the same time, a comfortable warmth buzzing through his veins and heart.

Yugiri pulled away, her cheeks flushed with daring as she grinned slyly. "A kiss for good luck, my friend. May the kami grant you favor." 

He raised an eyebrow as she expectantly glanced at him, awaiting an answer. "You're not going to kiss me again if I answer, are you?" 

"Depends on the answer," she teased, jabbing her elbow into his side. 

Castor chuckled, resting his forehead against hers yet again and inhaling her sweet lotus scent. "Go, my precious Doman fool." 

Yugiri laughed, her warmth filling him. "I shall." 

And then she broke cover to dash towards Gosetsu, startling the samurai.  

"I am here. Let us depart."

Castor watched her go, the yearning in his heart already unbearable as the two Domans walked away and vanished into the trees. 

He had his duty. Lyse was waiting for him by the  _Enterprise_ , her arms crossed and a grim expression on her face. 

"Is Yugiri leaving for Doma?" She asked, her long ponytail swaying in the cool, bitter breeze. 

"She is," Castor grunted, already feeling the void open within his breast. 

To think that one person could make him so vulnerable...the thought frightened and soothed him. Reminded him that he was still human, despite all of his ungodly strength. 

Lyse shifted on her feet, her face shifting from grim and brooding to embarrassed. "Hey, um, I wanted to...to apologize for having to keep my identity a secret from you." 

It had never been a secret. Even now, the venom of his past crimes against her burned within his heart, biting through his honor and everything he'd tried to be. Lyse...that was the name Yda had cried out, begging for that sister to forgive her as she'd bled out on Castor's gunblade. 

It still hurt. 

It still burned. 

It would never end, not for him. Not since both Yda's sister and father had fallen by his own hand. 

"It's fine, Lyse," he smiled at her, hiding his pain and conflict as he sought to bring warmth to the suffering woman before him. "I'm just glad you finally trusted me enough to reveal the truth." 

Her own smile warmed his heart, and she reached out to lace her fingers with his own. "I've always trusted you, Castor, more than anyone else!" 

"I'm honored," he nodded, then drew the woman into his arms, letting her rest against him. "And I will do my utmost to support you." 

"Hey, lovebirds!" Cid barked, making both jump. "Raubahn's sent word that the Alliance has secured the Wall! He wants the Scions to meet him on Gyr Abania's side of Castrum Oriens!" 

Castor bit down a growl and separated from Lyse, who was blushing profusely as she nodded. "Right, let's go." 

The Scions at his side joined him, and together the group strode through the ruined maze of Castrum Oriens, ravaged by steel and fire and by Shinryu's power. 

The legion was mustering, preparing everything they could for the upcoming struggles. On this day, on the cusp of a new revolution, the Fourteenth Legion would march to war. Scarlet and black-clad legionnaires and engineers scurried about like so many ants, Deathclaws and other mover magitek heaving countless crates of material about, the hum of machinery filling the air. 

Alliance soldiers dashed here and there as well, many wary or fearful glances following the black and scarlet forms of the Fourteenth legionnaires. 

"Ave, Legatus!" Arya sas Norian, the golden-haired Valkyrie, came out of a side corridor, her lips curved into a bright smile as she saluted Castor. 

Castor nodded in response, offering her a smile of his own. "Hail, Tribunus. How have you and Severus been handling everything?" 

Arya shifted uncomfortably. "To be honest, my lord, Severus is better suited to dealing with the paperwork and more complicated stuff. I've only been focusing on supplies and revenue and improving the legion's dealings with the merchants." 

Castor nodded: he'd read as much in the reports. "Your work is still important, Arya. And, unless I'm mistaken, you and Severus will be taking joint command of the legion's advances into Gyr Abania." 

"Under your guidance, my lord," Arya reminded him. "Do not forget that it was your strategies and planning that has allowed us to amass so many resources for our counteroffensive." 

"Everyone in the legion had a part to play, and all I did was guide you as my duty demands," Castor continued striding forward, nodding to every soldier who stopped to salute him. "And we have quite the massive obstacle standing before us."

"Ala Mhigo will not happily accept our presence here," Arya said softly. 

"I know." 

They walked in silence, Lyse and Arya close at his side. 

Arya's voice rose again, hesitant and cautious: "They will hate us, demand vengeance." 

His gut tightened. "I know."

The maze opened up into the porta decumana of Castrum Oriens, which was a large storage compound enclosed by steel walls and flashing lights. Star-studded darkness veiled the skies, glittering with thousands of gleaming dots. 

"There he is," Alphinaud murmured, drawing Castor's attention to a hastily erected pavilion off to the left, just before the gates leading out to Gyr Abania's wastes. 

Raubahn was peering over a map with commanders from Gridania and Limsa Lominsa, Marshal Pipin at his side as they spoke in low tones. Soldiers from each city-state were dashing about, shouting orders or heaving supplies about. 

Castor's gut was a knot of apprehension as he gazed out at what little he could see past the gates, wondering how much damage had been done by the fight between Omega and Shinryu. He'd been thrown off Omega during the last exchange, nearly plowing into the watchtower on Gridania's side of the fight, but he'd suffered far worse. 

"Ah, you're here," Raubahn rumbled, his steely gaze never leaving Castor as the party approached the war table. "Good, now we can begin in earnest." 

"Do you have a plan?" Castor's insides boiled at the thought of having to be ordered about by Raubahn, of all people, but he would stomach it for the sake of Ala Mhigo.

"We in the Alliance have drafted a letter to be delivered to the leaders of the Ala Mhigan Resistance," Raubahn held out a thick scroll, which Alphinaud quickly snatched and tucked away. "I would ask the Scions to act as our emissaries to the Resistance." 

"Smart. We are not here as invaders, after all, but allies to Ala Mhigo," Alisae commented. "It would be unwise to begin operations without the aid and consent of her people." 

"Most of us aren't invaders," Raubahn corrected her, meeting Castor's eyes with a baleful glare. "The presence of the Fourteenth Legion will no doubt anger the members of the Resistance, Castor  _van_  Entialpoh, so keep your troops on a tight leash." 

Castor ignored the barb and turned to the Scions. "Well, if we are to make contact with the Resistance, I know where to go. Follow me, and don't stray far: the wildlife isn't exactly welcoming." 

Arya saluted. "I shall remain here to coordinate our efforts with the Eorzeans, my lord." 

"Do so, but tread carefully, Tribunus," he advised, nodding to her as he strode towards the gates. "Come." 

"How do you know where the Resistance is hiding?" Lyse asked as she fell into step at his side.

A thousand memories ran rampant over him as he strode into the craggy, gray lands of Gyr Abania. East End, he remembered it, remembered the battle that had been fought nearby, in the ruins of the village of Bittermill. 

No, focus.

Castor shook his head to dispel the memories and glanced at Lyse to finally answer her question: "I was one of the first to discover their hidden base, under Lord van Baelsar's directive." 

Lyse recoiled, her eyes wide. "W-what were you doing that for?!" 

He strode forward into the craggy lands, allowing his memory to guide him through the tall, thick giants of trees that pierced the sky. Even from here, he could see the massive flag flying over Castellum Velodyna, as well as the black pillars of smoke rising into the sky. Burning magitek, perhaps, damaged by the fight over the Wall. 

"Lord van Baelsar had heard of a group of Resistance fighters hiding out in the Fringes, striking from a hidden base, and he'd sent many frumentarii out to discover its location, so that we might either convince the insurgents to stand down, or destroy them if they proved unwilling to negotiate," Castor replied as he led the group through the forest, massive hornets and tree creatures wisely keeping their distance at their approach. 

"Frumentarii?" Alphinaud murmured, mostly to himself.

"Spies; scouts; soldiers skilled in infiltration and covert operations," Castor answered. "I wasn't really a frumentarius, but I knew the lay of the land well enough to work with our Ala Mhigan recruits in finding anything that shouldn't belong, or should exist but didn't." 

"And you succeeded," Alisae stated as the party made their way through a winding path in the forest, the sound of rushing water growing louder and louder. 

"I did," Castor replied, working his way down a series of tall hills, rocky crags rising from nearly every direction.

"W-what did you do then?" Lyse asked hesitantly, her voice tight with fear. 

"What I had to," Castor drew his katana as a massive crocodilian creature heaved its scale-covered body onto the banks of the Velodyna river. "We can cross the river here, but be careful." 

The crocodilian snarled and attempted to close its massive, dagger-filled maw around Castor, but he lopped the creature's head off with a single swing of his blade. 

"What did you do?" Alisae asked this one, her voice cold. 

Castor ignored her and stepped into the shallows of the river, ice-cold water sloshing around his sabaton as the thick black metal sank into the soft mud under the surface. A cold breeze cruised through the wastes, tugging at the short, bushy tail that he'd tied his long hair up into. Yugiri had stared at him when he'd first styled it up like that, commenting that his appearance had reminded her of an ancient samurai warlord from the Hingan Age of Blood. 

What had his name been? Oda something? Even Musosai had said the same, stating that all Castor needed was a short goatee, mustache, and to dye the hair black and he'd be a spitting image. 

The water was cold, bitterly so, but it was shallow and easy to wade across. He didn't look back, but he could hear Alisae and Lyse gasping as the chilly water lapped at their forms. Alphinaud grunted, but kept quiet, apparently determined to outdo his sister. 

Castor paused on the other bank, offering a hand out to Lyse and Alisae as they stumbled and slogged their way towards him. Lyse gave him a grateful smile as she took his hand, a little squeak escaping her lips as he pulled her out of the mud. 

"T-thanks," she stammered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

Castor nodded, then grabbed Alisae's hand and repeated the process. 

"You alright?" He asked her, studying her cool eyes as she nodded. 

"I...I visited Ga Bu before we left," she murmured, the pain in her eyes drawing a hint of sorrow to his own. 

Ga Bu...that little Kobold child who'd summoned Titan with his grief and been tempered in response. 

Gods above, it had been miserable, fighting that weak partial manifestation of Titan as it screamed in the child's voice. Castor almost couldn't bring himself to kill the thing. 

"How is he doing?" Castor asked softly.

Alisae fixed him with a cool smirk. "You answer my question, and I shall answer yours." 

"Very well. After I'd found the Resistance's hideout, I was tasked with two things: seeing if they would be open to negotiate, and if they weren't, to wipe them out so the next cell to rise could take up residence there," Castor replied, Lyse's fingers tightening as she clenched his free hand. 

"And?" Alphinaud questioned, hauling himself up onto the bank. "What did you do?" 

Castor looked over at the boy. "We tried to negotiate, and they refused, and so I was tasked with leading a group to exterminate the cell." 

Lyse pulled her hand from his, and the others backed away uncertainly. 

"The Resistance caught wind of our assault and ambushed us in the ruins of Bittermill," Castor continued walking ahead, towards the craggy Striped Hills. "The insurgents took out almost all of the other officers leading the attack, but I was able to rally the soldiers and rout the ambushers. And then, we moved on...what was it called...Rhalgr's Reach." 

"You what?!" Lyse shrieked.

It hurt, it hurt so much, but he had to keep talking. "Luckily, for the insurgents, their ambush had given them enough time to evacuate the Reach. We found some stragglers and put them to the sword, but nobody else of import was there." 

It was a lie, all of it, and it burned his tongue. A vision of fire and death burned across his sight, transporting him back to Rhalgr's Reach almost a decade ago. 

Legionnaires and insurgents clashed in the heavy smoke and flames, screams of human and steel echoing through the Reach. They fought and died on both sides, rallied on by desperate leaders or cold-blooded officers. 

Castor was moving through the mayhem, smoke stinging his eyes as he emptied the chambers of his gunblade into any rebel he saw. 

"Filthy savages!" Another voice broke the hellish din. "We offer you peace and you respond with blood! You will all perish!" 

Castor nodded, and his keen Miqo'te ears picked up oncoming footsteps in the smoke. He spun, gunblade arcing out with blinding speed, and steel met steel in a raucous clash. 

"Imperial bastard!" The woman snarling at him wore a loose, baggy white shirt coupled with scarlet sabatons, a masked turban with strange goggles covering her face. 

Her caesti shrieked against his blade as the two tested the other's strength, the harsh smoke stinging Castor's lungs. 

"We offered you peace," he growled at her. "You refused and responded with steel." 

The woman jumped back, narrowly avoiding his sweeping blade and taking up another stance. "Like peace means anything to you monsters! You'd rather gut us all and drown Ala Mhigo with blood!" 

"Lord van Baelsar desires peace, not senseless slaughter," Castor replied, leveling his blade at her. "Let us hope that the next group that takes up residence here will be more amenable to a peaceful resolution." 

The woman snarled again, those strange black tattoos on her neck seeming to pulse with aether as she sprinted forward with blinding speed. Castor attempted to stab her mid-jump, but the woman shied away from the strike with unnatural grace and slammed a heavy caestus into his helmet. 

Castor swore as pain speared his head, his vision swimming with agonized black spots and sparks as he stumbled back. 

"Die, Imperial!" The woman's shoulder slammed into his gut, knocking the air from his lungs, and Castor's body exploded in pain as her fists rained down blow after blow after blow. 

Somehow, through the haze of pain and heat, his body moved on its own, pulling his sword free and thrusting upwards with all his strength. The woman jerked away in alarm, but the blade speared her turban and knocked the headpiece to the dusty ground. 

Brilliant blue eyes glared at him, blazing with rage as her brilliant golden hair hung around her face. 

"You're stronger than the others, aren't you?" She snarled, the pure hatred in her glare piercing Castor's very soul. "And you're a Miqo'te, too. Surprising: the Garleans don't usually promote someone who's not one of them." 

"I had no choice," Castor didn't know why he'd said that. "It was either I adapted, or I would die, just like my parents did." 

The woman's hatred flickered uncertainly, and her body relaxed for just the fraction of a moment. Castor acted, throwing all of his weight forward and slamming his gunblade into his attacker's chest. 

The woman choked, blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth as a wet cough sprayed Castor with the scarlet liquid. 

"Forgive me, but I cannot die yet," he whispered, and the short-haired woman cracked a faint smile with the last of her strength before she faded. 

Castor rose, grunting as the dead weight settled upon his waist. He put a hand on the woman's chest, her glassy eyes never leaving him as he shoved her off of his blade. Her corpse thudded against the dusty, bloody earth next to her mask, gazing without sight up at the burning skies. 

"L-Lyse...forgive...me...little sister..." Her ragged voice rasped, making him jump and aim his bloody sword at her. 

Her eyes closed, and the woman fell still, moving no more. 

"Yda!" A man's voice screamed, drawing his attention to the man whose face had been burned into every legionnaires' mind. "You bastard!" 

Curtis Hext, infamous vigilante and rebel, who'd once faked his own death to operate against the Empire in the shadows, raised a thick scimitar and sprinted towards Castor, a feral scream spilling from his lips. 

"You murdered my daughter!" He roared, the unbridled hate that had burned in his daughter's eyes reflected within his own. 

Yda Hext? The Scion of the Seventh Dawn?  _That's_  who he'd just killed?! Curtis sprinted towards him, still screaming bloody murder, and Castor lifted his gunblade.

His finger pulled the trigger, a sharp, empty click resonating through his ears. 

Curtis's sword slid through the air by his side, hitting empty space as a length of steel pierced his torso. Castor stared, stunned, as the man bled out upon the gunblade clutched in his shaking hands. 

"Look!" Severus shouted from somewhere nearby. "Pilus rem Entialpoh has slain Curtis and Yda Hext!" 

"Castor? Where to now?" The vision shattered, and Castor found himself staring at a sheer rock face. 

He shook his head slowly, dispelling the last vestiges of his past as he quickly peeked around to see if they were where he thought they were. 

"This is a glamour," he answered, gesturing at the rock face. "See how the river just ends over there? That's what drew my attention when I was going through here, and so I found the hidden base." 

He reached out with his power, with the loathing burning through his heart, and his Darkside reduced the glamour to/nothingness. 

Rhalgr's Reach opened up before the party, ancient withered stone stairs going up to a massive statue of the ancient god, hands outstretched. The towering cliffs surrounding the statue spewed majestic waterfalls into a gleaming pond at the statue's feet, and Castor wondered if the ancient temple buildings carved into the cliffs were still in use. 

Well, they had to be. What else would the Resistance do with them? 

Fire and destruction flickered briefly in his sight as he strode forward, his feet taking the same steps he had so long ago. How many more times would he walk the stones of his past sins? 

Almost immediately, insurgents dressed in dull dusters with griffon hoods surged forward to intercept the approaching party, scimitars and curved spears in hand. 

"Halt! Don't come any closer!" One rough man bayed. 

Castor raised a hand to halt his allies, then raised the other to show that he had no designs on drawing his weapons. 

"How did you find us?!" Another demanded. "The glamour-"

"Was easy to spot if one is skilled in the magical arts, unlike the Garlean fools," Castor cut him off. "We're from the Eorzean Alliance, and we'd like to extend an offer to your leaders." 

"The Alliance? So, now you finally turn your attention to us, huh?" The first soldier sneered, brandishing his scimitar. 

"We can leave, if you like," Castor replied sarcastically. "Leave Ala Mhigo to fight its own battles without the support of our armies." 

"W-wait!" Another of the insurgents stepped forward, raising his hand. "Come, please! Conrad will be glad to speak with you!" 

"Alphinaud," Castor nodded to the boy, who carefully pulled the Alliance's scroll from his pack and held it up for the Ala Mhigans to see as they jolted. "He has the Alliance's terms." 

The insurgents glanced at one another nervously, but Castor knew they wouldn't dare to draw weapons against him. They could feel his strength, feel the power radiating from him. 

"Who are you, black knight?" One demanded, lowering his spear. 

They didn't recognize him? Curious...very curious indeed. 

"A Scion," he answered, which wasn't really a lie or the truth. 

"Come," one insurgent ordered, and Castor strode forward to follow their new guide. 

There were tents set up everywhere as curious Ala Mhigan rebels eyed the newcomers, many more scurrying about on predetermined tasks. 

"An impressive setup," he commented, casting an expert's eye over the fortifications. 

They had a small battery of cannons set up right by the entrance, soldiers sponging out the thick barrels in the torchlight. 

"Impressive, huh? The Imperials have been underestimating us for years, now!" Their guide snorted as he guided the Scions around the lake. "With you Alliance types, we should be able to strike a surer blow soon!" 

The rebel led them past a plethora of tents and up a small hill, where the largest tent was erected beside a rather elaborate pavilion. An old man dressed in a brown duster was standing at the table with M'naago and...holy hells, was that Meffrid? From Quarrymill?! 

"Sir Conrad! I bring messengers from the Eorzean Alliance!" The guide announced. "They bring a treaty to ally themselves with us!" 

Three heads snapped up in surprise, and three pairs of eyes widened with horror before tightening with rage. 

"You fool! Do you not know who that black knight is?!" Conrad pulled a wand from his duster as M'naago drew a blade. 

"You've brought the Legatus of the Fourteenth Legion right to us!" 


	3. Of Rebels and Imperials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a good Christmas or whatever holiday you celebrate!

The monster was here, changed, just as M'naago and the stories filtering through the Wall have said. He towered above every man and woman present, clad in heavy jet-black armor that seemed to suck all of the light out of the world around him. 

Castor van Entialpoh, Legatus of the Fourteenth Imperial Legion, had come once again to deliver the Resistance to their doom. 

"Calm down," Castor's powerful voice radiated authority, and the terrible power emanating from him was as a blade being held to Conrad's throat. "Neither myself nor the Fourteenth have any desire to put you Ala Mhigans to the sword." 

"Conrad," Meffrid stepped around the table, interposing himself between the two groups. "I owe Castor my life, as well as the lives of the men I'd once commanded. I say we hear him out." 

"Meffrid, I must say I wasn't expecting to meet you again," Castor mused, drawing a surprised look from the man.

"You remember me?"

"I have a good memory. One of your men was the Griffon's double, you know," those piercing golden eyes surveyed the people arrayed before them, the bushy tail of his golden hair swaying softly with each movement. 

Meffrid scowled. "Truly? I knew many of ours had been lured by that madman's words, but I never suspected..." 

"Why are you here, Imperial?" Conrad snarled, his eyes being drawn to the blonde woman standing at the knight's side.

His eyes widened, his mind reeling as he attempted to make sense of what he was seeing. "By Rhalgr...Yda Hext?" 

The woman flinched, guilt flickering across her face as she fiddled with her fingers. "Um, no, actually...I'm Lyse Hext, Yda's younger sister." 

Ah...that made sense. Yda was killed during the last Imperial assault on the Reach, as was her father, although none of the Resistance knew who it was that had given away the location of the base to van Baelsar's forces. 

Of course the old viceroy's former lackeys would have remembered. 

"Alphinaud," Castor rumbled, and Conrad noticed the massive hunk of black steel that was strapped to his back. 

One of the two snow-haired children-twins, perhaps? -stepped forward, offering a tightly bound scroll. Meffrid took the scroll, unrolled it, and scanned its contents.

"It's a peace treaty from the Eorzean Alliance," Meffrid reported. "Offering military aid against the Empire." 

Conrad scowled. "And the legion?" 

"They aren't mentioned." 

"We aren't members of the Eorzean Alliance," Castor van Entialpoh rumbled, crossing his thick arms. "But...we wish to atone for our sins against Ala Mhigo." 

Rage sparked within Conrad's breast, and he fought down the urge to launch a spell at the beast. "Atone?! ATONE?! Like you monsters will ever atone for what you've done to my people! To Ala Mhigo! You painted the streets of our city with the blood of our brothers and sisters!" 

Castor's cold gaze sparked with sorrow, and he faltered ever-so-slightly. "We had no choice. Lord van Baelsar wanted to rule with fairness and righteousness, not the cruelty with which the Empire forced upon us. It was either we cruelly subjugate the masses, or another, more vicious viceroy would be appointed in our stead." 

"Conrad," Meffrid said softly. "Even you were saying that, compared to Zenos' rule, the Black Wolf was almost saintly." 

Conrad paused, his anger hooking and fading. He was right: while Lord van Baelsar's rule had been cruel, it had been far kinder than Zenos'. 

At least, under the Black Wolf, the citizens had retained some of their rights and had been treated somewhat fairly. Under Zenos, slaughter and death were more commonplace, and even Ala Mhigo's own children, the Skulls, had been taking part in the atrocities. 

"Lord van Baelsar had no desire to rule by the blade, using tyranny and cruelty in order to keep Ala Mhigo in line," Castor turned his back on the trio. "Alphinaud, Alisae, Lyse, come: let us lend what aid we can while they deliberate." 

Conrad opened his mouth to snarl at the legatus, but Meffrid cut him off.

"Whatever aid you can offer will be welcomed, Castor. You have my thanks." 

The Scions nodded and strode away, the twins glancing around curiously as they examined the Reach. 

Conrad glared at Meffrid as the man spread out the scroll upon the table. "You're just letting that monster loose?!" 

"That monster saved my life and the lives of everyone in Little Ala Mhigo," Meffrid said coldly, a faint spark in his dark eyes. "If he wanted to destroy the Resistance, he would have allowed the Amal'jaa to sacrifice Little Ala Mhigo to Ifrit and he would have abandoned my group in Gridania."

"M'naago," Conrad murmured, his heart heavy as he turned to the Miqo'te, "what do you think? You've seen him, firsthand, during the Griffon's assault on the Wall." 

The woman shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with her fingers as she glanced at her feet. "He and the Fourteenth are terribly powerful, but they've rarely abused their power. The only occasion I can think of is when Tribune Severus led an assault on the Ceruleum Processing Facility in Northern Thanalan and claimed the land from the Immortal Flames."

"Did they give you any trouble when you went through their territory to find the Scions?" Conrad asked, seeking any tiny infraction that would bolster his suspicions. 

M'naago shook her head. "No. When they found me trying to get through, the Imperials actually helped me reach Mor Dhona." 

"Really?" Meffrid raised an eyebrow, his sentiments nearly repeated by Conrad's own lips. "How?" 

"They gave me a lift on an airship," M'naago murmured, sheathing the wide-bladed hunting knife she'd drawn. "And dropped me off in the Fogfens. They offered to look at my wounds, but I didn't let them touch me." 

"Well, how about we take a look at the Alliance's proposal?" Meffrid asked softly. "And if the Fourteenth Legion wants to throw their strength against the Empire, then that is merely an added bonus." 

 Conrad wanted to agree, but the crimes the Fourteenth had committed against Ala Mhigo could not be forgiven.

"Let's." 

"I'm glad they didn't chase us out of here at blade point," Alphinaud murmured, grunting as he heaved a crate of medicinal supplies towards the Reach's clinic. 

Castor shrugged. "They could have tried, but their weapons would have been wholly ineffective against me."

"Not against us," Alisae commented. "We're not as invulnerable." 

"I'm not invulnerable," Castor reminded her, absently placing a hand over his Eye-ravaged shoulder. "Merely blessed with inhuman strength that regular soldiers cannot match." 

"And with armor made from a god-like deity's own plate," Alisae smirked. 

Castor grinned at her. "And you're complaining?" 

The girl laughed. "Oh, on the contrary! I'm merely wishing you could share that strength with us lowly mortals!" 

Castor chuckled, turning his attention to the crates of food that some merchants had asked him to move. He hefted a stack of them into his grasp, the gaps left by Nidhogg's Eyes burning as he put pressure on his upper body. 

That done, he hauled them over to the tents the merchants had indicated and set them down, glancing back at the great statue of Rhalgr. Lyse was standing at his feet, staring at something on the base, and Castor remembered.

The Stormblood monument, the one venerated by the Monks who'd been slaughtered by Mad King Theodoric, lay there, but he couldn't get the sight of burning wood and rubble from his mind. 

Before he knew it, he was at Lyse's side, gazing at the epitaph etched upon the stone pedestal at Rhalgr's feet. 

"Lyse?"

She flinched, then glanced back at him, her eyes filled with warring emotions. 

"Castor...have we been called back?" She asked, her voice hoarse. 

This wasn't good. "You okay?" 

"I'm fine," she murmured, but the bitterness of her voice said otherwise. 

"Lyse," Castor raised an eyebrow as she gazed at him. "What is the problem?" 

"I...I just can't believe that we're here, you know? And that you know more about my homeland than I do," she murmured. "And...I was talking to some of the others, and they said that if it wasn't for you, they would have just thrown us out of the Reach, altogether. They were afraid of you, Castor." 

"Many are," he answered, gazing at the unmarked graves he knew had to be there, mocking him. 

He'd ordered them filled, to leave a reminder to any cell that took up residence here in the Reach that the Empire would find them. Gods, all that innocent blood...shed on his orders. 

More sins that would forever weigh down his heart. 

"Does it hurt? Being back here?" Lyse whispered.

"More than you know," he gazed at a tiny monument erected out of stones and broken spears, rising from underneath one of the many stone chambers. 

A memory to those who died on his orders. 

To Yda and Curtis, whose names had been buried under the gritty dust with all the others. 

"They hate you, you know," Lyse whispered. "How do you stand it? All those angry, burning stares following you around everywhere you go. The whispers, the oaths of vengeance for slaughtered family..." 

"I will atone for my sins, one way or another, so nothing they have to say will harm me," Castor chuckled bitterly. "Ala Mhigo will be liberated, even if it's future is built upon my bones and suffering." 

He could feel her pitying gaze fixed upon him, feel the sorrow aching within every beat of her heart. 

"Castor..." 

"Sir," a tight voice, fighting back a snarl, came from the Resistance fighter who'd approached. "Sir Conrad will see you, now." 

Castor nodded. "Very well. Let us collect the twins, eh?" 

That proved easier done than said: the two were already waiting for them at the pavilion, standing before Conrad, Meffrid, and M'naago. 

"Ah, you're here already, good," Conrad growled, his aged features hardened with suffering and Ala Mhigo's harsh climate. "Give the Alliance our reply, which will be delivered by M'naago." 

"Very well," Castor nodded. "Then let us depart." 

But the old man wasn't finished: "Listen, bastard: if M'naago sustains so much as a scratch on your journey to the Alliance, the Resistance will consider both the legion and the Alliance enemies." 

Fool. Did he really think Castor would believe that?

Meffrid scowled at Conrad, but said nothing, while M'naago just silently made her way over to the Scions. 

"Let's go," she said softly, not looking at him. 

Castor turned away with a nod, shrugging as Alisae raised an eyebrow at him. "What?" 

"So, we're just going to wander around the Imperial-infested wastes?" 

"I already pity any fools from the Twelfth who come across us," Castor replied. 

With that said, the group advanced to the entrance of the Reach, the dusty earth swirling with each step. 

"So, you destroyed the glamour?" M'naago muttered as the party passed to the Striped Hills. 

"It can be easily replaced, if you still fear Imperial patrols," Castor assured her before leading the group forward. 

Before long, the Miqo'te grabbed Castor's arms to stop him and all but dragged him behind a rocky outcropping. "Shh! Hear that?" 

Castor frowned and focused, hearing nothing but the wind and far-off echoes of gunshots. "I hear naught to be concerned with." 

"I hear a ceruleum engine backfiring, along with...ten-no, twelve! -Imperials," M'naago's face was scrunched with concentration as her keen ears flicked back and forth. "Wait: there's another group approaching, this one with lighter footsteps." 

Then he heard it: the sound of nearby gunfire and clashing steel. 

"They're fighting?" M'naago frowned. "But...those aren't ours, and they don’t sound like Alliance, either: they're using guns." 

Castor smiled to himself as he took great strides towards the sounds of fighting. "It's the legion." 

He rounded the nearest corner, immediately coming face-to-face with a dozen dead Twelfth legionnaires and the smoking ruins of a magitek predator. Several squads of Fourteenth legionnaires, clad in scarlet tunics and black armor that sharply contrasted with the dreary wastes of Gyr Abania, were milling about the carnage. 

"Legatus!" One man immediately spotted him, those filling the role of Medicus moving among the assembled and closing any wounds they could find.

The Fourteenth legionnaires immediately snapped into stiff salutes, fists thrusting out from their breasts. 

"Peace," Castor nodded, studying the corpses of the Twelfth's soldiers. "Well done, soldiers. How fare the patrols?" 

He should know this, being their Legate. What sort of leader didn't know? 

"We've been meeting with the Twelfth's soldiers all over the Fringes, but we've managed to keep casualties low," one of the five squadron leaders he could see, marked by a crescent sigil on their shoulders, stepped forward. "Tribune Arya has been coordinating the Eighth and Ninth cohorts in tandem with the Alliance forces, but we simply do not have the room to fully maneuver in the wastes that remain in the wake of the battle." 

"Especially since those fools in the Alliance are refusing to give us free reign," a second leader, or decanus, grumbled. "With unrestricted movements, we'd be able to take Castellum Velodyna easily and push on into the Peaks." 

"Patience, my friend, patience," Castor chided, albeit gently. "If we move too quickly, we risk Zenos taking the outlying villages hostage to check our advance. That beast wouldn't hesitate to slaughter entire towns just to decorate the Fourteenth's path with the corpses of those we couldn't save." 

The legionnaires paused, several gritting their teeth as they gazed at the dusty earth. 

"As you say, my lord," one soldier murmured. "We'll continue to carry out your orders." 

"Good."

Equipment rattling and metal clinking, the legionnaires split off into their respective groups before disappearing into the wastes, leaving the corpses of the Twelfth behind. 

"Let's go," Castor repeated his orders to his allies before striding forward. 

They walked in silence, retracing the steps the Scions had taken to reach the hidden sanctuary, passing several patrols from the Fourteenth as they wound their way through the ruins of East End. 

Twice, they came across the remains of skirmishes: broken bodies decorating the earth while ravaged magitek smoldered and spewed smoke into the skies. Most of the corpses were from the Twelfth, but Castor scowled as he spotted an increasing number of Fourteenth casualties. 

He wanted to examine the bodies of his fallen, to bury them before the wildlife could get to them, but he couldn't forsake his current objectives. Besides, he could always send out collection teams to get the bodies of their comrades. 

Before long, Castrum Oriens loomed ahead, black steel and magitek lights breaking the monotony of the forest. M'naago tensed, her extremely keen ears twitching as she listened to the activity that was bustling through the castrum, but she kept walking forward with her head held high. 

"General! They're back!" The Serpent guarding the gates shouted inside, Raubahn glancing upwards and nodding as the Scions approached. 

"The Bull of Ala Mhigo," M'naago gasped, the admiration in her voice tugging at the ends of Castor's lips. 

"I take it you're from the Resistance?" Raubahn asked, a cautious glance going Castor's way. 

"Y-yes, sir!" M'naago hastily bowed, drawing a chuckle from the towering Bull. 

"At ease, lass. We're both of Ala Mhigo, are we not?" The man grinned. "Now, what do you have for me?" 

M'naago hurriedly dug a scroll out of her pack and offered it to Raubahn. "Sir Conrad of Rhalgr's Reach bade me to deliver this to you, sir!" 

Her frantic deference was almost...amusing. 

Rabauhn nodded and read over the scroll's contents, then frowned. 

"You want only the Alliance to aid you, while disregarding the Fourteenth Legion?" The man rumbled. "And you want Castor to stay out of Gyr Abania altogether?" 

Castor couldn't keep a bemused snort from escaping. "Really, now? You think the Alliance, alone, is capable of freeing Ala Mhigo from the crown prince of the Empire?"

M'naago flinched. "Conrad was...very specific." 

"I'm sorry, but we cannot agree to these terms," Raubahn shook his great head. "As Castor said: The Alliance, alone, cannot face down the Twelfth Legion. We're going to need the Fourteenth, whether we like it or not." 

M'naago's face fell, but she nodded. "Y-yes, sir. I'll...talk to Conrad, see if I can't get him to work with the Fourteenth." 

"I don't expect him to," Castor grunted, drawing the eyes of his comrades. "Nor can I blame him and the rest of Ala Mhigo for hating us. The legion has done terrible things to the people of Gyr Abania, and it would be foolish to hope for blind cooperation." 

"What do you propose we do?" Alphinaud scowled, his sister frowning as she ran through scenarios in her head. 

Castor glanced at Lyse. "I...believe it's time for Lyse to return home, to Ala Gannha." 

"H-home?!" Lyse stammered. "But, how did you-"

"Imperial records note Ala Gannha as the home of Curtis Hext, and later that of his daughters, Yda and Lyse Hext," Castor answered. "So, yes, I knew." 

"Meffrid was going to go by the village, to see if we could attract any more recruits," M'naago murmured. "If Castor and the Scions were to actively take a part in replenishing the Resistance's numbers, perhaps it could sway Conrad." 

"My lord!" Arya dashed over, drawing a surprised yowl from M'naago. "We've stolen some plans from the Imperials in Castellum Corvi!" 

"Oh? And what do they entail?" 

His Tribunus saluted sharply, grinning without shame. "The Twelfth has abandoned Castellum Corvi in favor for Velodyna, leaving a perfectly good fortress for us to repurpose for our own use."

"The plans you stole, Tribunus," Castor said drily, and Arya's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

"My apologies, Legatus! The Imperials plan on testing a prototype weapon soon, fielding it against the Alliance forces in East End to see how it'll perform!" 

Castor frowned. "Do you know what kind of weapon?"

"No, my lord, the reports only said 'prototype weapon'," Arya replied.

"And do you know when they plan on testing it?" He could see how everyone else was listening intently, frowns crossing many of their features. 

"Today, my lord. Or, rather, tonight," Arya glanced up at the dark skies, the countless stars glittering across the black veil. "They hope to ambush some unwary patrols." 

"So they'll be hunting shortly," Castor frowned. "How about this: we inform the Resistance of their plans and attack the Imperial group with the Alliance's forces. After we destroy the weapon, the Resistance will take the Imperials from behind." 

"That's a sound plan," M'naago mused. "But what about Meffrid?" 

"Lyse and I will go with him," Alphinaud suggested. "Alisae can go with Castor to deal with the Imperial prototype." 

Castor could hear footsteps approaching. "And what about us?" 

 Krile and Y'shtola grinned at him from where they'd stopped, the Miqo'te placing her hands upon her hips. 

"Perhaps you could go to the Resistance's infirmary?" Castor suggested. "I'm certain they would welcome a pair of skilled, beautiful healers." 

Krile blushed, and Y'shtola smirked.

"Beautiful? Why, Castor, I never knew you held those sorts of feelings for me," Y'shtola teased. "Dare I wonder why you suddenly seek to draw me into your bed?"

Castor glared at her. "Very funny, Y'shtola." 

"Legatus!" A soldier darted forward, her dark armor gleaming in the light of the stars and mechanical towers. "Our scouts have just sent word: the Imperials from Castellum Velodyna have just dispatched a party of soldiers, with a prototype Vanguard in their midst!" 

Castor frowned. "Already? That was fast. They must really be itching for action against us, huh?" 

"Probably has to do with all of their soldiers that we've been slaughtering," Arya mused. "The Imperials are desperate to strike back, to stem the tide of our advance." 

Castor nodded. "With someone as ruthless as Zenos as commander, the Imperial officers will be desperate to make amends. They will be reckless, acting without recourse, until Zenos himself shows up to deal with us." 

"M'naago, take Lyse and Alphinaud and get back to the Reach," Raubahn rumbled.

The Miqo'te blanched, then nodded fervently. "Yes, General! We'll bring soldiers as soon as we're able to!" 

"The legion will stay out of this," Castor glanced at his soldiers, who visibly balked. "This victory must be the Alliance and the Resistance's to win." 

"Of course, we'll be keeping some troops hidden nearby, in case they're needed," Arya muttered, her voice lost in the resulting clamor as the Alliance scrambled to prepare for battle. 

Castor nodded to her. "Of course: the Alliance troops might be warriors, but they're not professional soldiers, unlike the legionnaires." 

He kept his voice soft, where it was lost amongst the clamor. 

"You know, I've been looking at some maps, and I think that we'd be able to use our airships to ferry soldiers behind Castellum Velodyna," Arya suggested.

Castor shook his head. "I see the merit in your plan, Tribunus, but you must remember that the legion isn't here to win this war for the Alliance and the Resistance. As much as I'd love to storm Castellum Velodyna and lead the entire legion against Ala Mhigo's oppressors, I can't. We must work with our...allies, and show them that the Fourteenth truly wishes to make amends." 

"I know," Arya murmured, the bitterness in her voice the twin to his own. "I don't like it, but I know."

"Neither do I, especially since one legion, alone, is more than a match for everything the Alliance can muster, even with Ishgard," Castor shook his head.  

This would be the Alliance's test, and if they failed, the legion would be there to clean up their mess:  _Castor_  would be there to dig them out of the grave, as always.


	4. Clash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone!

It isn't fair. It just isn't fair! Grynewaht growled and muttered a flurry of every curse he could remember under his breath as his battered, sore body tromped forward with another patrol at his back. 

Stupid officers...insisting that he go out to fight the Eorzeans again. Everything still hurt! It wasn't his fault he failed! It was that bloody traitor, Entialpoh! If he hadn't shown up, Grynewaht would have had Garlond and the others on a silver platter! 

It was all his fault! Entialpoh showed up and ruined everything! Him and that damn traitor legion of his! 

Grynewaht stomped past the ruins of some village or another, the name gone from his mind, his body crying for sleep and rest. 

Stupid Eorzeans...stupid officers...at least Grynewaht had a chance to use this prototype and crush some skulls. The automaton was big and clunky, with missile launchers fixed onto its arms in lieu of the Vanguard's drills. 

Things were looking grim, yes, but he would crush the Eorzeans here and now! 

"Hostiles spotted!" A soldier's cry jolted him from his thoughts, turning his sleep-addled gaze forward.

Eorzeans! The scum dashed out of the brush and from behind trees, their brightly colored uniforms an eyesore as they formed ranks before the Imperials. 

"Well, it appears the Fourteenth's intel was accurate," the towering, dark-skinned warrior in gladiator's armor with an absurd bull's head helmet mused, hefting a massive blade in either hand. "Good." 

Again with those bloody traitors! Grynewaht was going to personally crush each and every one of them! Starting with their legate! 

"Attack! Grind their skulls into mush!" He screamed, heaving his hammer from his back and stomping forward. 

The Eorzeans charged, as well, the ones wearing chainmail armor and blue metal lowering a wall of spears. 

Grynwaht neared his foes, rearing back with his hammer to crush them, but that towering warrior lunged at him and thrust both blades at Grynewaht's chest. 

He skidded to a halt, swinging his hammer at the Ala Mhigan, instead, already seeing the savage's head exploding in a shower of bone and gore. To his surprise, the savage caught the blow on both of his scimitars, a wicked grin flashing upon his scarred face as the two warriors pushed against the other's strength. 

"You're a big one, aren't you?" The savage chuckled as the air around them became filled with the familiar screams of battle and death. 

"Shut it, savage!" Grynewaht's patience was already low, he didn't need this rebel sneering at him! "Now, die!" 

Grynewaht harnessed his strength and showered blow after blow upon the Ala Mhigan, his hammer gouging the earth or shattering nearby skeletons of trees and brush with each swing. The savage infuriatingly blocked or evaded every swing, his two blades scraping against Grynewaht's armor. 

"Get the weapon ready! Kill them all!" He screamed at his soldiers, glancing back to see how the battle was faring. 

The savages were holding their own, somehow, but the magitek slashers and gun bits that had been following the Imperial advance surged from the wastes and plowed into the rebel flank. 

Brightly colored bodies fell with screams and curses, steel glittering and shining as magitek blades opened flesh with mechanical grace. Grynewaht sneered, and then balked as the slashers exploded in a burst of shining magic. 

"Hold the line!" A girl's voice rose from the chaos, and the owner plunged into the battlefield. 

Her snowy hair was easy to spot, as was the gleaming magic blade she bore as she dueled Imperial soldiers. With the magitek destroyed, save for the prototype, the Eorzeans rallied and reformed ranks. 

"Get that prototype up here now! Kill 'em all!" Grynewaht screamed at his engineers, who were hanging back from the battle, fiddling with the weapon. 

Right as he said that, the boom of a gun echoed through the battlefield, and the prototype's torso exploded as a bolt of pale energy slammed into if from afar. The engineers scattered as shrapnel sprayed them, the gaping hole in the prototype crackling and spitting sparks as the machine powered down. 

"Sir! Savages approaching from behind!" One of the engineers screamed. "It's the Resistance!" 

Then an arrow sprouted from the man's chest, and he collapsed. 

No! Damn them all! Filthy Eorzeans!

"For Ala Mhigo!" A new voice rose from the chaos, and Grynewaht's fury only grew as a swarm of rebels clad in the Resistance's colors surged from the ruins, baying as they plunged into the Imperial rear. 

They were trapped. His soldiers were falling left and right, unable to maintain their positions against so many foes, but Grynewaht saw a weak point in the surging mob of Resistance fighters.

"To hells with all of you!" He screamed, swinging his hammer in a wide arc around him and driving back everyone in the vicinity. 

That done, he lowered his shoulder, mustered what strength he had left, and stomped forward. He steamed over every enemy in his way, smacking them aside with his bulky arms or just plowing over them until he broke through. 

"That's right! Run to your viceroy!" The bull's sneering voice drove blades into Grynewaht's skull. "The day belongs to Ala Mhigo!" 

Bastards! Savages! As Grynewaht put more distance between him and the cheering rebels, he glanced back and saw  _him_ : the legate, himself, stepping out of the forest, his wrist cannon steaming as his golden eyes pierced Grynewaht's very soul. 

Castor van Entialpoh said nothing, just watching Grynewaht as he fled. The rage burned within his heart, and Grynewaht skidded to a halt to face the warrior who towered over even him.

"This isn't over, y'hear me?!" He screamed. "I'll get you and the rest of you traitors! I'll kill the lot of you, one day!" 

A cold smirk tugged at the Au ra's lips. "You may try. Now, run." 

Grynewaht snarled but did as he was told.

He ran for his life, vowing vengeance for this humiliation. 

"There he is!" Meffrid murmured as the group continued following Wercrata. "He made good time, given how terrified he must have been."

Lyse nodded. "Those Qiqirn were unlike any others I'd seen." 

She, Alphinaud, and Meffrid had managed to rescue the young man from her home village from the carnivorous Qiqirn residing in the Ziggurat, allowing him to deliver the village's tributum to the Imperials. 

It hurt, seeing her countrymen suffering so, being forced to pay tribute to their Imperial masters, but at least Lyse could do something about it now! As they crouched behind rubble, watching Wercrata approach a bridge rising into the Peaks, Lyse's heart skipped a beat at the appearance of soldiers wearing white masks. 

"The Skulls," Meffrid murmured. 

Ala Mhigans, torturing their own kith and kin for the Empire. The Black Wolf's Pups.

The moment the Skulls berated Wercrata and smacked him onto the ground, Lyse's heated anger drove her to her feet before a strong hand forced her back down. 

"What the?! Who the hells are you?!" Meffrid hissed, drawing Lyse's eyes back. 

A man was crouching behind them, his bare hand clutching Lyse's arm as sharp, storm-grey eyes peered out of their hiding place. His jet-black hair was short cropped in a soldier's cut, nicely outlining his sharp, almost noble features and aquiline nose. A grey bandana was wrapped around his forehead, and the equally grey duster he wore rustled as he released Lyse. 

"That's her, alright," his clean-shaven face tightened, gazing beyond Lyse, and she quickly followed his eyes. 

To the fiery haired woman who'd joined her fellow Skulls, a strange tattoo under her left eye. 

"Get back!" Meffrid hissed, yanking Lyse back into cover. 

The group remained silent, tense anticipation filling the air around them as they awaited their fate. After a minute or so, the newcomer carefully peered around the rubble, and the tension melted from his muscles. 

"They're gone, and the Ala Mhigan's getting up. He'll be fine," the man murmured. 

"Who was that? And who are you?" Alphinaud demanded, keeping his voice low as if afraid they would still be discovered.

The newcomer smiled wryly and lifted his bandana, drawing a gasp from Lyse at the sight of the pale third eye that marked him as a Garlean. 

"Severus tol Aurelius, at your service," the Tribunus chuckled, slipping the bandana back into place. "Man, I'd forgotten how heavy that damn armor is. I almost miss it." 

"Why are you here?" Meffrid snarled, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. 

"Legate's orders: he wanted to make sure that you guys weren't caught by the Skulls," the Tribune replied, his grey eyes flickering with pain. "Or by Fordola." 

"The Butcher," Meffrid grumbled, hatred burning in his gaze.

"Wait, what?" Severus' gaze snapped back to the Ala Mhigan. "Why are you calling her The Butcher?" 

Meffrid scowled at him. "Do you not know the stories of your own kind, Tribunus? Fordola's murdered hundreds of her own countrymen in cold blood, brutalizing them on the very streets." 

"That's...not who I remember," Severus murmured, the anguish in his tone fading instantly. "What has Zenos done to her?" 

Lyse's fists clenched, and the overpowering desire to tear the Skulls apart burned through her breast. She wanted to hit something, anything!

"Hmm? The Imperials have been routed and their prototype weapon destroyed?" Severus was speaking into a communicator. "Excellent. Things are well on this side, my lord, except...I saw her. Yes, my lord. I'll...have to speak to you in person, my lord: there are still Skulls lurking about. Yes, my lord. Vale." 

"Speaking the old Garlean tongue, now?" Alphinaud mused. "What else have I been missing?" 

"It was my idea to incorporate more of the old tongue into our routines," Severus replied, his voice icy and emotionless. "To take what was the Empire's, and make it our own. To make our own meaning out of the folds of tyranny." 

Lyse frowned at him, but admitted that she could see the merit in that. 

"So, what now?" Alphinaud wondered.

Meffrid glared at Severus, but something had softened in his dark eyes. "We go back to the village, make sure Wercrata made it there alright." 

Lyse nodded. "Alright." 

At least Castor was safe: that, alone, lifted a great weight from her heart. 

She would see him soon. 

Severus stood apart from the others, watching Ala Gannha from the remains of a natural stone archway. Lyse was talking to the wizened elder, who was actually smiling as he glanced at the forms of Wercrata and his sister. Alphinaud and Meffrid were binding the man's wounds, gently taking care of him as his sister fretted nearby. 

They were suffering, all of them, even more than they had been when Lord van Baelsar had been in charge. So much pain and bloodshed...And Fordola...gods, Fordola. What had the Imperials turned her into? 

She'd always been so fierce and independent, her eyes blazing with the strength of her soul. Yet she'd never wanted to turn her weapon against her kin, despite everything they'd done to her. 

"So, you came on Castor's behest?" Meffrid's voice made him jump and reach for the dagger tucked into his waist. 

He relaxed, releasing the metal hilt of his weapon. "You startled me, Meffrid...but, yes, I came on the Legate's orders." 

"Are you truly here to free Ala Mhigo from the Empire?" The man asked, his dreadlocks rustling in the cool breeze. "To atone for everything you've done?" 

Severus nodded. "We are." 

Meffrid heaved a great sigh and leaned against the dusty stone wall. "Thank Rhalgr...with professional legionaries like you on our side, winning our freedom from the Empire will be just a little easier." 

"Not likely: the damn Alliance will insist on being the heroes of the day, while we sit on the sidelines," Severus snorted. "If they'd just give us free reign..." 

"You would have captured Castellum Velodyna already, eh?" Meffrid chuckled. "And burned down that disgusting flag?" 

Severus felt his lips curving upwards. "Oh, I think we might use our cannons to blow a few holes in the thing, later." 

Both men fell into silence, watching Lyse and Alphinaud finish talking to Wercrata and the elder. 

"This is only the beginning," the words left Severus' mouth on their own volition. 

"I know." 

"Zenos can't ignore this, and there will be a reprisal," he crossed his arms and glared at the starry skies. "There will be blood."

"I know." 

Severus gazed at the stars, amazed at how much brighter they seemed to be than they had been in the past. 

"Fordola...How much longer will it be until we cross blades? Will you kill me? Will I have to kill you, my love?" 

Erit sanguis. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for incorporating a bit more of Latin, or what I see as the old Garlean tongue, actually came from my recent playthrough of Fallout: New Vegas's Caesar's Legion. They're assholes, but I like legions, and it gives me the opportunity to mess with some Latin.   
> I am using Google Translate, however, so I can't promise how accurate the Latin I do write will be. I apologize if I butcher it, hahaha. 
> 
> Translations:  
> Vale: Farewell.   
> Erit sanguis: There will be blood.


	5. Demons of The Past and Present

"Castor!" Lyse's voice rang out from the side, drawing his attention to the woman now racing over to him. 

"Lyse!" His lips curled upwards into a smile of their own volition as the blonde woman's form slammed into him.

"Heh, someone's happy to see you," Alphinaud and Alisae were standing to the side, shameless smirks on their lips as they gazed upon the scene. 

Lyse's arms wrapped around his torso, a contented hum escaping her lips as she burrowed into his chest. Castor chuckled and placed his own arms around the woman, drawing her closer to him, yet minding his thick armor. Wouldn't do to hurt her by accident. 

They were standing back in Rhalgr's Reach, awaiting Meffrid's revision of the terms of the treaty as he worked with Conrad. Castor wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, to give his weary body rest before he collapses yet again, but he still had a duty to fulfil. 

"Lyse, can you let go of me?" He asked the woman clutching his torso, but a faint groan answered him. 

"I don't wanna," she mumbled, her childlike refusal widening his smile. 

"Why not?" He wondered, gazing down at the mess of blonde hair. 

She grunted instead of giving a more sophisticated response, but Castor shrugged. 

"An excellent reason, Lyse," he mused. "By all means: keep holding onto me, I enjoy it." 

Her giggle brought warmth to his breast, and he smiled down at her. Perhaps this was her way of coping? She'd lost so many people already...it's only natural that she'd wish to desperately cling to those she had left. Like him. 

"Legate," Meffrid's cool voice made his head swivel towards the owner.

"Sir Meffrid," Castor nodded as carefully as he could manage, but Lyse let go. 

She didn't leave his side, he noticed, not that he was complaining. 

"We have the new terms to be delivered to General Raubahn," the warrior held out another bound scroll of thick, browned papyrus. "These will be...more acceptable, I'd think." 

Castor reached out and took the scroll, then handed it to Alphinaud. "I'll see that it's delivered. I take it your forces are in good spirits with this victory?"

"That they are," Meffrid grinned. "Especially with the way you blew that prototype to hell with a single shot. We didn't have any casualties because of you, Castor, and don't think we didn't notice the Fourteenth's legionaries engaging the Twelfth's reinforcements while we charged." 

Castor froze, and then a bemused chuckle escaped his lips. "You're more perceptive than I'd anticipated." 

"M'naago is," Meffrid corrected him. "She nearly put an arrow through that other Tribunus of yours until she recognized the woman and your legionaries." 

"You keep calling my soldiers 'legionaries'," Castor noted. "Why is that?" 

Meffrid shrugged. "Makes it easier to distinguish them from the Twelfth's legionnaires."

"Ah, I see: if you say 'legionnaires', you mean the Imperials; but if you say 'legionaries', you mean my soldiers." 

"Exactly," Meffrid nodded. 

Alphinaud cleared his throat. "Hate to break up this fascinating discussion, but we must be on our way, legate." 

Ever the annoyance...

"Very well. Take care, Meffrid," Castor glanced up at the starry skies, his weariness etching into his features. "Let us away, then get some rest once we're done." 

He felt pressure and glanced down as Lyse punched his arm, a playful grin on her lips.

"Come on! I'm exhausted!" 

"Want me to carry you?" Castor asked drily, immediately regretting his offer as Lyse's eyes lit up with excitement. 

"Yes, please!" She beamed, scrabbling up onto his back before he could react. 

Castor sighed and placed his hands under her legs to support her as she looped her arms around his neck. "Just like old times, eh?" 

"Just like old times," she echoed, the sorrow in her voice cracking his heart. 

She was doing all she could to keep herself together, clinging to one of the only closest friends she had left. 

Castor glanced over his shoulder to look at her, and his eyes fell upon the little monument of spears and rubble once again. Several Resistance members were kneeling before it, their mouths moving in prayer as several left small trinkets on the cairn. 

For loved ones. 

For family. 

All dead by his hand. Consigned to eternal darkness, their hopes and dreams ripped asunder. 

The Abyss stirred deep within his soul, as it constantly did in this land filled with the remains of his worst sins, and warm hatred seethed through his veins. 

It was all his fault: all this suffering and agony. All this blood staining his hands, staining his very soul. 

_"Woe be to those who stand beside the Weapon of Light...for their hopes and dreams are forfeit."_

Castor bit back a snarl as the world swam and rippled, shaking his head to restore clarity before he strode forward with a weary Lyse on his back. 

_"Can you hear them_ _, Castor? Can you hear the echoes_ _of our sins?"_

To hells with this.

He walked on into the wastes. 

They were singing, the massive array of officers that awaited him. A sea of black armor filled his vision, filed into neat lines with military precision. 

They bored him, all of them, and he ignored them as he strode through the aisle they made, his 'escort' marching in sync behind him. His armored boots clanked against the stone steps of the savage's great 'palace' with every step he took, the moon shining brightly down upon the ensemble. 

Truly, these fools spared no expense in greeting their viceroy. 

The only time his interest was mildly piqued was when he'd seated himself on the Griffon's Throne and placed his great scabbards onto the floor at his feet. His officers lined up on either side of the lush carpet, and Zenos yae Galvus reached up to remove his clunky helmet before setting it aside. 

It was so tiresome, listening to these weaklings prattle on about the events that had occurred in his absence, until one report in particular caught his ear. 

"A prototype weapon destroyed, and only one survivor?" He mused to himself as he rested his head against his armored palm, his interest never rising as he half-heartedly addressed the officer speaking. 

"Yes, my lord! The unit in question falls under my command!" The weakling kept his salute stiff and firm, but Zenos easily saw how the man trembled at the words. 

"He is resourceful, and that may prove useful," he mused. "He may live, but the Twelfth is no place for the weak." 

The officer nodded. "As you say, milord! He shall be relegated at once! There is no place for those who deem their lives more valuable than the cause!"

At that, Zenos sighed with boredom before pushing his armored body to stand. His hand cruised over to his scabbards, closing around one of the three hilts protruding from the massive device and drawing it with a loud metallic ring. 

Their fear filled the air as he strode down the aisle, the weakling who'd been speaking faltering as Zenos stopped before him.

"It is as you say: The Twelfth is no place for weaklings who cower in their castra and defer critical missions to subordinates, never meeting their prey on the battlefield; never seeing the light leave their eyes." 

The officer balked, openly shaking as his quaking voice stammered out an apology. Zenos swung lazily, not even putting any real effort in the movement, watching as blood sprayed from the officer's rent form. Such weakness...it was pathetic. 

He turned and began speaking to his remaining officers, not even caring what words escaped his lips as he cast his bored gaze upon them. 

"What say you, my fellow huntsmen? How shall we proceed?" 

None moved. 

Then, to his surprise, that Ala Mhigan auxiliary stepped forward and snapped out a salute, her fiery hair whipping back at the movement. 

"Milord, I have a proposal!" Her voice rang out, clear and controlled, filling the space with her determination. 

"You forget your place, savage!" One of the Tribunes snapped, jabbing a scarlet-clad finger at the woman. "You are here only by Lord van Baelsar's graces!" 

The savage bit back a low snarl as she glared at the floor, but something in her caught his curiosity. 

Zenos strode over to the Skull commander, gazing down upon those hate-filled eyes. They burned with determination, with the desire to do anything to prove her worth, and the sight of such fervor tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"This 'savage' yearns to hunt her own kind," he announced, and the woman's eyes flickered. "The floor is yours, commander." 

Fordola rem Lupis's lips twisted into a faint, overjoyed smile, but that fire burning within her fierce eyes never faded as she began speaking of a place where the Resistance had hidden in the past.

Rhalgr's Reach...home to the savage rebels that the Eorzean Alliance was relying on for support. Zenos processed the information automatically, his mind wandering to the blood to be shed by his hand. 

Perhaps they would be worthy prey? 

"Sir Entialpoh! Are you in here?" A voice roused Castor from the void of dreams, the darkness peeling back to reveal the metal room he'd taken for himself. 

The black curtains had a border of light, signifying the risen sun now shone upon his side of the world. 

Yugiri...her absence was another void within his heart, a great, empty mass that sapped him of his strength. He wanted the emptiness to be gone, to be replaced by her warmth and affection. 

Next to him, another warm body stirred, blonde hair splayed wildly out upon the pillows as she groaned. 

"Castoooooor," Lyse whined, one hand reaching out blindly for him and flailing as she tried to grasp him. "Come baaaack, I'm cold." 

He smirked at the woman, then noticed that the dark grey nightshirt she'd 'borrowed' from him was slipping off her shoulders, leaving them bare. 

"Lyse, your shirt's coming off," he warned. "Not that I'm surprised: it's about fourteen sizes too large for you." 

More knocking at the door, more calls of his name. 

"Lyse, we have to go," Castor seated himself upon the bed's edge, reaching out and tugging the shirt back over his companion's shoulders before her breasts could be revealed. "Up and at 'em." 

Her bleary, sleep-addled eyes sought him out, clearing slightly as the damned messenger knocked yet again. Her expression hardened.

"Okay, I'll get dressed." 

Castor nodded and rose, reaching into his Armory and drawing his armor from its confines. The heavy plate encased his body once again, the weight of Deathbringer on his back and the two Eastern weapons on his waist drawing a faint hint of comfort from the darkness.

He briefly thought about Musosai, of justice and retribution. 

Castor had committed so many evils...what was going to be his judgement? What force would come to make him pay for his sins? Was he even worthy of carrying the blade gifted to him by his former master? 

"Lucky you," Lyse muttered from behind, and he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder as he heard fabric rustling against skin. "I wish I could just make my clothes appear like that." 

"It's handy, but only if you have good control over it," Castor replied as he approached the door, which that damn messenger was hammering away on once again. "Otherwise, you could end up half-naked in the middle of a battlefield." 

He hit the button on the wall, and the magitek door slid aside with a hiss, revealing a startled Flame recruit clad in the company colors.

"What?" 

The young man glanced behind him, eyes widening as his cheeks burned bright red before turning his gaze back to Castor. "U-um, the G-G-General has, uh, asked for your presence at the, um, summit!" 

Castor nodded. "Very well."

Then he raised an eyebrow as the recruit peeked behind him again, and Castor silently counted down. 

"Three...two...one," 

Right as he hit one, Lyse's startled cry emanated from behind, the red-faced Flame recruit yelping as metal shrieked from the bedroom. Castor didn't flinch as a leg of the black nightstand shot past him, narrowly missing the Flame recruit and embedding itself into the opposite wall. 

The makeshift javelin hummed ominously as it vibrated, the recruit giving a frightened mewl as he scrambled off as fast as his legs would carry him. Fool. 

"Well, he was quite dumb," Castor commented, Lyse huffing in annoyance. 

"Honestly! Peeking at me while I'm getting dressed!" She grumbled, and Castor could hear fabric rustling as she continued changing. 

"I can't blame him: you are quite beautiful," he didn't know where the words came from, and he faintly caught Lyse's surprised exclamation as metal hit metal somewhere behind him. 

"U-um...thank you." 

Again, the void in his heart stirred; burning, aching. It always hurt. Yugiri's smiling face flashed within his mind. 

"I'll be at the summit. Take what time you need to get ready," he murmured, stepping out into the corridor as the door shut behind him, cutting off Lyse's protest. 

The darkness seeped from the empty void in his heart, tinting his vision black as he strode through Castrum Oriens. His legionaries saluted at every turn, and his body automatically returned each one with a polite nod. 

What was going to happen this day? Whose broken family would he happen across this time? How many reminders of his sins and of the many dreams he'd destroyed would be thrust into his face? 

It burned through his veins, little serpents of guilt and agony that only doubled as the wounds left by Nidhogg's Eyes responded to his turmoil. The serpent's wrath still ached, singing in harmony with his own omnipresent rage and reducing his heart to a reactor of suffering. 

"Castor? Where's Lyse?" Alisaie's voice drew him from the hazy void, and he realized he'd reached the porta decumana. 

The others were all clustered around Raubahn's war map, shrouded in the warm golden glow of the risen sun. All of them were staring at him expectantly. 

"Wasn't she staying with you again?" Alphinaud mused, and a few of the onlooking Alliance soldiers shared alarmed looks. 

"I feel bad for her," one of the new Scions that Alphinaud had brought with him murmured. "She's lost so much...and so many people." 

"She has Castor, at least," a burly swordsman-Arenvald, Castor thought his name was-added, the paint on his forehead contrasting sharply with his tanned skin.

One of the two Miqo'tes raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think their relationship was like that. How do you think they even-"

"It isn't like that," Castor growled, making the man clamp his mouth shut with an alarmed expression on his features. "Lyse and I aren't bedding one another." 

He heard her approaching: her metal sabatons clanking against the black flooring with every hurried step.

"I'm here!" Her labored cry followed shortly. "Sorry about that!" 

"It's fine," Raubahn nodded his great head, then locked eyes with Castor. "I trust you slept well?" 

Castor returned the gesture. "What's the plan?" 

"Pipin's been scouting out Castellum Velodyna," the Bull replied. "I want you to meet up with him and get his assessment so we can coordinate our assault with the Resistance." 

"We're attacking the Castellum?" Castor mused. "Very well. And what of my legion?" 

"They've been keeping an eye on the bridge from Corvi and engaging patrols wherever they can, but Conrad's terms demand that the legionaries refrain from entering the Reach, lest they give away its position to the Imperials," Raubahn replied, drawing a sigh from Castor. 

"I know all of that, General. I meant: what did you want us to do?"

The man grimaced. "Right. I want you to provide a supporting role, as you did yesterday. Keep your legionaries on high alert on our flanks in case the Imperials try to get around us." 

Castor scowled, but nodded. "Fine. I'll let the troops know." 

And let Arya know to begin sending raiding parties into the Peaks to harass the Imperials around Ala Ghiri. Perhaps they could draw some of the Twelfth away from the town, or sabatoge some of the fortifications around Specula Imperatoris: The Emperor's Watchtower. 

Lyse pressed closer to him, perhaps unconsciously, her keen gaze never leaving Raubahn as she listened intently to his instructions and plans. Alphinaud and Alisaie occasionally asked a question or two, but the briefing concluded in a few minutes. 

"Good luck, all of you."

Castor shrugged and activated his comm to Arya, the Tribunus picking up immediately.

"What do you need, my lord?" He could hear the smile in her voice; she enjoyed calling him 'lord' a little too much, it seems. 

"Spread the word among the legionaries: We're to provide a supporting role on the flanks of the main Alliance assault as they march on Castellum Velodyna," he glanced at the Miqo'tes in the party before switching languages. "Aliquem militem praebituram. Ne non videatur vobis." 

The surrounding soldiers gave him a strange, wide-eyed look, but he ignored them. 

"As you command, my lord!" Arya said brightly, before pausing. "Um, you did mean to say 'Send some soldiers into the Peaks. Let none see you', right?" 

"Yes," he nodded, relief bubbling up from within, as well as pride. 

Arya chuckled. "You've gotten better, my lord! At least you're not asking me how my pigs are dying, anymore!"

Castor fought down a groan. "Do not mention that, ever again. Or the incident in which I accidentally...Wait, why was I about to mention that-which-must-not-be-spoken-of?" 

"Indeed, my lord," Arya replied with a somber tone. "We must never speak of that, ever again. Especially not in front of Severus." 

Oh gods. 

He rolled his eyes and cut the connection, picturing Arya laughing from where she was stationed. Severus had come by last night, after Lyse had already fallen asleep, and the Tribunus had shared everything he now knew of Fordola the Butcher, as well as the resentment the populace of Ala Mhigo harbored towards her. 

She was still desperate to prove herself, it seems, going so far as to brutalize her own countrymen on Zenos's orders. A chill went up Castor's spine: he prayed she didn't do anything to jeopardize the Alliance's assaults, especially since the legion was being forced onto the sidelines.  

He prayed she didn't give that monster the location of Rhalgr's Reach. 

"Castor!" Lyse's impatient shout made him jump. 

He turned and glanced down at the woman, noting the furrowed brow and the hands that now rested upon her hips. "Yes?"

Her eyes filled with concern as a frown tugged at her lips. "Are you okay? You were spacing out." 

"I've got a lot on my mind," he admitted, staring out the castrum's gates to the broken forest beyond. 

He could see a group of lumbering bears being driven off by the sentries at spear-point, shouts and the twanging of bows from the ramparts adding to the confusion. 

"Castor..." Lyse's strong fingers intertwined themselves with his own, her earnest gaze never once leaving him. "I'm here for you. I...I know I'm not the best at talking, but..." 

He squeezed her hand as carefully as he could, smiling down at her as their eyes met. "I'm not, either, but we make it work, don't we? Besides: you're perfect just as you are." 

Her face lit up, but the pain in her gleaming eyes remained. Castor's heart ached: he wanted to reach out and erase her pain, her sorrow. He wanted her spirit to shine as brightly as her smile did. She really was beautiful. 

"Thanks, Castor," her lips curved into an embarrassed smile. "You know just what to say to make me feel better, don't you?" 

"I'd hope so: we've been spending a lot of time together over the past two years, have we not?" Castor's heart ached, yearning, begging for release. 

"Milord?" It was Severus, approaching from the Castrum walls. "Marshal Pipin has set up position by Castellum Corvi and is awaiting your arrival." 

Castor nodded. "Acknowledged. You have my thanks, Tribunus." 

"Of course, my lord," Severus saluted. "Are we to continue preparing to support the Alliance's assault?" 

"Yes. I wish we could just mount a frontal assault and take the fight to the Twelfth right now, but..."

"I know, my lord," Severus shook his head. "I do, too, but the Alliance won't allow us."

The contempt in his voice mirrored Castor's own sentiments, but neither could openly voice their anger and annoyance before the Alliance leaders. 

Light, familiar, footsteps caught Castor's ear, and he turned to see a certain Padjal striding towards him, a bright smile on her gentle features. 

"Castor!" Kan-E Senna beamed at him as she approached, the minor bond between their Soul Crystals humming with her affection for him. "Or, might I say, Lord Castor?" 

Castor couldn't resist smiling back at her, bowing as she approached. "Lady Seedseer. To what do I owe this honor?"

"The Alliance Leaders are gathering to plan the assaults on the Empire, and I am no exception," Kan-E's eyes gleamed as her smile never once faded, her white robes rustling with every move she made. "You are faring well, I hope?" 

"As well as can be," Castor smiled wryly, his heart skipping a beat as Lyse joined Kan-E in beaming at him. 

"Ah, Lady Lyse!" Kan-E directed her smile to the surprised Ala Mhigan. "I trust you've been taking care of our mutual troublemaker?" 

"How did you...Never mind," Lyse recovered quickly, her smile widening. "And, yes, I've been trying to!"

"Castor!" Alisaie called over from the gate. "We're ready to leave!" 

Castor sighed. "My apologies, Lady Kan-E: it appears duty calls." 

"We shall have to meet later for tea," the Seedseer declared with a soft smile. "Please, stay safe, my dearest friend." 

With that, the petite woman approached Castor and beckoned for him to lean towards her. Curious, Castor stooped, pausing only when Kan-E's impossibly lips pressed against his cheek before drawing closer to his ear. 

"Please...be careful. I would never forgive myself if you were injured as you were against Nidhogg again," she whispered, the massive affection in that little gesture pushing against the dark rage and bitterness threatening his soul. "I care deeply for you, Castor. Please...come back to me." 

She pulled back, ignoring the surprised looks of the soldiers around them, and curtsied once again before departing, her Keepers scurrying after their charge. 

Castor glanced over at Lyse, who looked conflicted as she watched the Seedseer leave. He reached out and placed his hand upon her shoulder, gently.

"With both of us, together, we can face anything this damn Empire has to throw at us," he said coolly, guiding her towards the gate. 

"I know we can," she replied in a voice nearly lost to the background. "Castor...being so close to you gives me strength. I...I feel like I can do anything as long as you are by my side." 

He smiled at her, eliciting a smile of her own. "The feeling is mutual...You aren't going to kiss me, are you?" 

"W-what?!" Lyse's eyes widened as her cheeks burned bright red. "Of course not! Don't be..." 

"I jest, I jest!" Castor chuckled. "Come, let us away!" 

The group, consisting of himself, the twins, Lyse, and the three new Scions, made their way into the wastes, the dry, arid wind drawing a familiar darkness from the depths of his soul. The walk was uneventful, thanks to the lack of vicious wildlife and Imperial patrols. Fourteenth legionaries were marching in patrols here and there, saluting their legatus before vanishing into the wastes. 

"Your soldiers are quite thorough," Alphinaud commented as the group happened across a pile of dead Imperial legionnaires being burned by Alliance troops. 

The scene was familiar: although the Imperials were replaced by innocent civilians turning into ash. 

_"Our sins can never be forgotten; never be forgiven. We will never be freed from the weight of the dead."_

Castor shook his head, focusing on the presence of the blonde woman at his side. The world swam and blurred before him, until the Ala Mhigan wastes were replaced by walls of black steel. 

"Ah, you're here," Pipin was standing off to the side, gazing at the distant shape of Castellum Velodyna. "Good."

Lyse squeezed Castor's hand, drawing his gaze to her as the world sharpened around her mien. "Castor, I almost forgot: Conrad wanted to talk to me back in the Reach. I'll be back as soon as I can, okay?" 

The darkness rippled, but Castor nodded. "Take care of yourself, Lyse."

"We'll go with her," Arenvald offered, his two companions nodding. 

Lyse smiled at them. "Thanks, guys. Come on!" 

With that, the group dashed off towards Rhalgr's Reach, leaving the party behind them to stay at the repurposed castellum. 

"And now, we wait and watch," Pipin said, his face obscured by the visor of his horned helmet. 

Castor tuned his comm into the frequencies used by his patrolling legionaries, letting countless reports and the voices of men and women alike wash over him, clashing with the bitter, sneering darkness distorting his vision. 

The sun climbed higher into the blue skies, baking the wastes with brutal heat until everyone around the castellum was gorging themselves on water skins and canteens and sweating up a storm. Ifrit's soul stirred, hardening Castor's resistance to the hellish heat, and he stared at the massive, malms-long Garlean banner flying from Velodyna as he listened to the comm chatter linking his raiding parties. 

"Excellent," Pipin's voice caught his attention. "The distribution of Imperial assets is exactly as Father expected. I must-"

A faint boom shook the air, drawing the immediate attention of everyone nearby. 

"Was that cannon fire?" One of the legionary patrols commented.

"It's coming from Rhalgr's Reach!" Another report shouted, and Castor's blood turned to ice within his veins. 

"No...damn you, Fordola!" He snarled, drawing startled looks from everyone present. "To the Reach! Now! You lot: with me! We must rout the Imperials before they turn Rhalgr's Reach into a mass grave!" 

Not again. Not while he can stop it! 

His long strides carried him over the wastes with speed no other man could hope to match, and he nearly plowed into a group of wounded Resistance fighters being led away from the Reach by Krile and Arenvald's group. 

Several of the fighters collapsed to the ground the moment they stopped, wounds weeping scarlet as moans of pain escaped their lips, and Krile immediately rushed over to a man with a white-wrapped head. 

"Imperials?" Was all Castor said, hearing his allies' hurried footsteps behind him.

Krile nodded, the shock on her face filling his heart with rage. "They came out of nowhere and started killing everyone. Lyse and Master Kemp rallied the guards to buy us time, but..." 

"Arenvald, can you get these people to Castrum Oriens?" Alphinaud demanded, not seeming to care as the wounded Resistance fighters, M'naago included, visibly tensed at the approach of the legionaries. 

"Aye, sir!" Arenvald answered, carefully supporting M'naago's weight with his armored form. 

"Move out! Now!" Castor barked, reaching up and hauling Deathbringer into his grasp. "Slaughter every single one of those Imperial bastards and get everyone you can out of the Reach!" 

He wasn't a leader like Lord van Baelsar: he wasn't as refined, as noble, as gallant. He could never compare to such a man. But he was Castor Entialpoh: conqueror of gods and men alike, the chosen of the Sun and Moon.

He was the Warrior of Twilight, and he would be damned if he saw his past sins recreated by another. 

Castor could see smoke rising from the Reach, his keen ears already picking out the sounds of clashing steel and screaming. The howls of wolves, too, for some odd reason. 

He strode forward, purpose burning within his breast as he took the ruined stairs to the Reach three at a time. What awaited was a scene that he never allowed himself to forget. 

The Reach was burning, wood and destroyed magitek spewing black smoke into the sky as scarlet flames devoured whatever lay in their path. Corpses of Resistance fighters and Skulls littered the dusty earth, and Castor could already see the struggling forms in the dust and smoke. 

"Help us!" A piercing cry jerked him from his memories to spot a group of wounded Resistance fighters staggering towards the entrance, Skulls pursuing them. 

Castor's arm rose immediately, his gun discharging in loud reports one after another. The pursuing Skulls crumpled as holes were blown into their bodies, and their fleeing 'prey' began sobbing with relief. 

"Get out of here, go!" Castor barked at them, noting how their eyes widened with terror as they looked behind him. 

His legionaries were approaching, gazing coolly upon the debacle before them. They formed ranks at his side, clutching their weapons tightly as their eyes drifted to their legate. 

Castor might not be Lord van Baelsar, but he was still their leader. 

"Forward! Drive the Imperials into the void! Leave none alive!" 

They surged forward, plunging into the chaos. Resistance fighters and Skulls were clashing everywhere, steel glinting and shrieking as bodies fell and voices screamed their agony. 

Castor hacked his way through a group of Skulls attempting to execute the Reach's merchants, and he turned just in time to see gods-damned wolf-men in Imperial colors charging towards his legionaries. 

"What the hells?" A legionary's voice cried. "They have beastmen?" 

Castor noted that the wolves were carrying Eastern weapons: katanas, naginatas, and the like. Zenos was the viceroy of Doma, as well, so perhaps these were conscripts brought over from there?

"Conscripts from Doma," he answered his soldiers. "Kill any who stand in our way."

The legionaries steeled themselves and then dashed forward to meet the wolfmen. The conscripts fought well, injuring several of the legionaries until they were overwhelmed and cut down. 

More blood shed by his hands; more sins to weigh his soul down.

And then he saw her: Fordola rem Lupis, standing before two fallen forms and a tied up Lyse. 

"Forward! Forward!" She was exhorting her troops, urging them into the fray as two more Resistance fighters fell to her blade in an ill-conceived attempt to rescue their comrades. "Show no quarter!"

And then she saw him, her eyes widening with shock and horror as her gaze locked onto the legionaries at his side. A hushed oath escaped her lips, and then her expression hardened into bitter loathing. 

"You!" Her snarl was as beastly as she could muster. "You damn traitor! Castor Entialpoh!" 

His heart stirred with rage and dismay, but that didn't stop his sword from rising. "Fordola." 

"I'll deal with her, my lord," Severus' voice cut through the chaos, a knife that pierced Fordola with brutal certainty.

The Tribunus emerged from the smoke, his black armor caked with dust and his saber stained with blood. 

Fordola froze, the torment in her eyes burning just as brightly as the pain and anger borne within those irises. "Severus?"

"Hello, my love," the Tribunus interposed himself between the two groups. "Go, my lord: see to Lyse and the wounded." 

Castor nodded, and the sounds of combat seemed to fade away entirely as he studied the heartbreak unfolding before him. 

Fordola, predictably, made the first move: she lunged at Severus, her curved shamshir streaking towards him with blinding speed as her legs devoured the distance between them. Steel shrieked as their blades met and locked, eyes blazing with hatred and dismay meeting empty, black lenses. 

"Why?!" She screamed at him, her arms trembling as the two pushed against one another. "They told me you were dead! That Castor killed you with Lord van Baelsar!" 

Oh. 

"Well, I'm not dead," Severus replied, his voice tight with emotion. 

He gave one last heave, sending Fordola stumbling back. The woman snarled with pure hatred and lashed out with her weapon yet again, but Severus coolly parried her strike and again drove her on the defensive. 

"Fordola, enough of this: I don't want to kill you," he spoke again after rebuffing a flurry of strikes from his beloved. 

Fordola was gasping, breathing heavily and glaring at Severus with pure hatred and confusion burning in her irises as she again rose her blade to strike. Castor darted towards Lyse and knelt at her side, his strong fingers ripping the rope binding her wrists to shreds. 

"Alphinaud! I need your help!" Krile had apparently followed them into the chaos, and Castor glanced over to see the Lalafell on her knees by a bleeding Y'shtola, gentle aether shining around the gash in the Miqo'te's chest. 

Alphinaud dashed over and knelt by an unconscious Conrad, light shining from the boy's own hands. 

"Where's Meffrid?" Castor frowned, looking around for the man. 

"Gah!" Fordola screamed as she was thrown back, her shamshir flying from her grasp as Severus aimed his gunblade at her torso. 

"That's enough, Fordola," he ordered. "Don't make me kill you." 

Castor rose, striding over to his Tribunus' side as the man glanced his way. 

A powerful presence filled the air, holding an ephemeral blade to Castor's throat, and every hair on his body stood on end. 

"Pilus, see to your men," a powerful, almost silken voice ordered, and Castor's eyes were drawn to the towering figure striding towards him, carrying a massive magitek scabbard on his waist as draconic horns pierced the sky. 

Fordola blanched, then saluted and dashed away, shooting Severus one last, burning glare before she vanished. 

"Your friends were a disappointment," the monster that could only have one name mused, sparing the fallen and Lyse a bored glance before turning his gaze back to Castor. "But you...you will entertain me, will you not?" 

Alisaie and Pipin hurried up to join the two officers, weapons drawn and ready. 

"All three of you, get away from him," Castor ordered, that ephemeral blade digging into his throat and threatening his vitals.

The sense of just... _wrong_ , was overpowering, a black hole sapping the light of the world around them; a physical weight pressing upon Castor's armored body.

"What? Are you mad?" Alisaie growled. "I refuse to just abandon you to your fate, unlike some others." 

Her barb made Pipin grit his teeth, but the warrior shook his head. "I feel the same." 

"My lord..." Severus murmured, fear tightening his voice. 

"All of you, go! Now!" He snapped, ready to grab the trio and heave them away from this demon, if he had to. "He's far beyond your strength. I will not have you kill yourselves!" 

They flinched at his words, but Severus holstered his gunblade and seized the other two by their arms. 

"He's right: Zenos' strength is far beyond what you could hope to contend with," the Tribunus murmured. "We'd only get in Castor's way." 

He dragged them towards a bewildered Lyse, obeying his legate's orders as Castor turned to face the demon lording over the carnage. 

Zenos yae Galvus held his katana-like blade in a unique stance at his side, the aura of death surrounding him drawing its eager fingers around Castor's throat. 

Death and Darkness were all that awaited, and the Warrior of Twilight rushed to meet them once again. 


	6. Twin Demons

The attack had been so sudden: one moment, Lyse had been talking to Conrad, listening as he'd told stories of how he'd worked with her sister and father, and the next moment, Imperial troops had flooded into the Reach from both entrances, cutting down everyone they could. 

Lyse and Conrad had gathered as many able bodies as possible and led a counterattack, which had actually been going pretty well until Fordola rem Lupis, herself, entered the fray, cutting down Resistance fighters left and right. Arenvald and Krile had gotten as many people out as possible the second an opening was created, but that opening was closed almost immediately by those strange wolfmen. 

Lyse had fought with all the strength she could muster, beating down Skulls and wolves left and right, and then she'd turned just in time to watch Fordola rem Lupis cut down Meffrid with a single stroke. 

She'd screamed bloody murder as she attacked the Skull, driving the woman back, and then  _he'd_  shone up. Zenos yae Galvus, viceroy of Ala Mhigo and Doma, crown prince of the Garlean Empire. 

Lyse had attacked him, but every blow met with an unflinching steel wall that effortlessly blocked every single one of her attacks before knocking her back with but a single swing. Just one swing: he hadn't even hit her; the force generated by the movement had been more than enough to knock her flat onto her rear. 

And then Y'shtola had jumped in as the demon strode forward to finish her off, taking the blow meant for Lyse and collapsing. She was alive, if but barely, but she would die if she wasn't treated. 

Fordola had tied Lyse up and dumped her beside the still forms of Y'shtola and Conrad, who'd been hit from behind by the Skull leader, and right as Fordola was about to have them all killed, the Fourteenth Legion had plunged into the fray, Castor at their head. Her dear friend's appearance eased the fear in her heart, and Lyse had to fight down the urge to hug him as he cut her bonds.  

Severus tol Aurelius had engaged Fordola, driving her back with his superior strength, and then Zenos stepped forward to deal with them. 

Castor urged his allies away, claiming quite correctly that Zenos was too strong for them, and the two warriors stared at one another, their armor gleaming in the firelight. Lyse could almost see the auras of death and destruction surrounding the two, choking the air with their sheer strength. 

And then, almost as if they were in perfect sync, the two warriors had attacked one another in unison. Steel shrieked and sparked as Zenos' katana clashed against Castor's massive Deathbringer, and Lyse nearly lost her balance as the air, itself, trembled with the might of the duo. 

Zenos seemed surprised, his swing faltering slightly before Castor forced him back into action. Steel clashed and shrieked every time their blades clashed, and their powerful bodies slammed together as Castor rammed his shoulder into Zenos' chest.

"You are different than most," the viceroy's silken voice purred as he stumbled back before regaining his balance. "Who are you?" 

Castor said nothing, responding with a brutal, two-handed swing that Zenos parried. The massive hunk of black steel ground against the smaller blade, and Zenos stepped back before his weapon could snap under Deathbringer's weight, alone. His left hand, resting upon his magitek scabbards, tugged on one of the other two hilts, and a burst of teal wind exploded around them. 

Castor pushed on through the maelstrom with ease, the howling gales bending around him as he lunged at Zenos. Again and again, they clashed, shaking the air with the vestiges of their might as steel shrieked and sang. 

Castor was almost fluid, a black blur tinted with silver moonlight and golden sunlight as Deathbringer slashed massive gashes in the air around him, scarlet energy rippling and shuddering from his body. 

Zenos was hard-pressed to stand his ground, yet every time he swung, Castor's entire form shuddered as he parried. 

"By the gods, their strength is almost equal," Pipin whispered, his eyes wide as he watched the two superhuman warriors hammering away on one another, shaking the air with each crash. "I never thought I'd see someone who would be Castor's match in battle."

Lyse found herself nodding, entranced by the fighters' sheer power. 

With one mighty, explosive crash that shook Rhalgr's Reach to its very firmament, Zenos and Castor separated, skidding backwards and gouging deep furrows into the earth with their feet. 

"Who are you?!" Zenos demanded, his voice filled with a disturbing amount of joy. "You! You are the beast I have been seeking!" 

Both men were breathing heavily, yet their grips on their weapons never faltered as their gazes locked. The air was electric, shimmering and crackling with the might of their aetherial presences. 

Lyse couldn't tear her gaze from Castor's sweat-slicked, blood smeared face, his golden eyes glowing with power. He was so strong, and Lyse had never expected to see him struggle against anyone boasting the same power. 

Castor readied Deathbringer as Zenos lunged, his katana a blur streaking towards the black-clad Warrior of Twilight. Steel clashed once again, Zenos's katana plunging into the 'eye' set into Deathbringer's crosspiece, and light exploded from the contact. 

Unholy shrieking accompanied the waves of darkness erupting from the weapon, Castor's agonized scream punching Lyse's heart. The man jerked back, Deathbringer's core spewing darkness and scarlet light as shards of black metal scattered throughout the battlefield. 

"Castor!" His name was ripped from her throat, and she started to move when Severus' hand held her back. 

"Don't! You'll get yourself killed!"

She couldn't move against his strength, her struggle proving pointless once Pipin added his own grip to the hold. 

"What happened?" Alphinaud demanded, shielding Conrad with his body. "What was that?!" 

Castor had fallen to his knees; all eyes being drawn to the remains of Deathbringer that was being clutched in his hand before turning to the black crystal hovering between the two fighters. 

"Is that...his Soul Crystal?" Pipin's voice seemed almost too loud, and Lyse realized that the rest of the Reach had fallen deathly silent. 

The air was still, almost like it was holding its own breath. 

The crystal emitted an unholy scream, spewing dark energies until the shrieking report of shattered glass shook the air. With a burst of light, the crystal splintered into two fragments before falling to the ground with a heavy thud, Castor's eyes fading into a pure white sheen as his heavy body followed the crystal's example. 

"What?" Zenos actually took a step back. "What is this? Are you going to fall so easily?" 

"Castor!" Lyse screamed, heaving against her friends even as her ears rang with painful remnants of the Soul Crystal's shrieks. 

Zenos approached Castor's still form, the chunks of Deathbringer's shattered blade crunching underfoot as he towered over the fallen Warrior of Twilight. 

"Pathetic...to think a lucky strike was all it would take to bring you down," the man lamented, true regret in his voice. 

Then the air began to tremble with the mightiest aetherial presence Lyse had ever felt, every hair on her body standing on end. Zenos glanced around, intrigued, and then Castor's eyes opened. 

The white sheen was replaced with blood red, the pupils that always looked upon Lyse with warmth and affection pitted with craters like miniature moons as they pulsed with scarlet rage. His arm swiveled upwards, and his cannon erupted with a ear-shattering scream. 

Zenos stumbled back as a brilliant, scarlet explosion erupted from his chest, shrieking as magical spikes raked against his armor. 

Castor's black and scarlet-shrouded form rose from the earth, still clutching the damaged hilt of his greatsword. 

 ** _"I am not finished yet,"_** his voice was raspy and rippling with power. 

Zenos raised his sword, preparing to strike, and Deathbringer's hilt exploded with brilliant golden light. The sun, hanging high over the Reach's smoking form, dimmed and actually seemed to shift as an aetherial blade formed entirely of golden aether expanded from Deathbringer's hilt, almost too bright to look at. 

"Yes...Yes!" Zenos was laughing, his voice drawing knives through Lyse's skull. "Strike at me with your hate!" 

Castor reared back, his mouth opening wide as a shockingly familiar, draconic, roar echoed from his vocal chords. He lunged at Zenos, golden light scorching the earth as the aetherial blade scraped against the ground with each long stride. 

Zenos readied his blade to intercept Castor's strike as his enemy stomped forward, twisting mid-stride and heaving his aetherial weapon in a brutal uppercut. The two blades met, golden light exploding from the contact and blinding everyone present with the supernova. Lyse turned away, the sunlight burning through her eyelids even as she shut them. 

The light faded, and Lyse snapped her gaze back to her beloved friend. Zenos was steaming, a black scorch mark crossing his torso and going all the way up to his horned helmet. Metal snapped and clanged, Zenos' katana falling to the earth in pieces as Castor's aetherial blade dissipated into nothingness.

"You..." The man was breathing heavily, but his voice was still so clear. "You are perfect!" 

He dropped the steaming hilt of his broken weapon, then turned his back on Castor. "We will meet again, champion of the savages. When we do..." Zenos actually shuddered before striding away, leaving the remains of both weapons in the earth. 

Castor dropped Deathbringer with a heavy thud, slowly turning to face his allies. The scarlet light in his eyes faded to an exhausted gold, and then his eyes rolled up into his head. Lyse heaved against her friends yet again, but this time their grips released her, and she sprinted to Castor's side. 

"What the?! Where did you come from, boy?!" Pipin's startled cry made her turn her head back to see a young boy standing by a ruined pillar, his pale skin a sharp contrast to the Ala Mhigan wastes. 

A baggy blue jacket of decidedly Ishgardian make was billowing in the breeze, alongside his surprisingly long silver hair as his keen ice-colored eyes fixed upon Castor. 

Upon realizing Lyse was staring at him, he blanched. "M-my apologies! I didn't mean to absorb his aether!" 

What? Lyse's eyes were drawn to the remains of Castor's Soul of the Dark Knight, and she noted with alarm that one of the two halves had vanished. 

"You absorbed Castor's aether?" She knelt by her catatonic friend, reaching out and cupping his cheek, before yelping at the hellish temperature that singed her flesh and yanking her hand back. "H-hot! Really hot!" 

The boy strode closer to Castor, a pitying gaze focused upon him. "So much pain and suffering...so many sins weighing down your soul..." 

Protective instincts immediately overwhelmed Lyse, and she fought down the urge to shove the kid away from Castor. "Who are you? What are you talking about?" 

The boy smiled bitterly. "My name is Myst. I...have a particular talent of absorbing aether if I get too close to something like that strange crystal. I...I can feel Castor's pain, his suffering. I can sense everything..." 

The boy shuddered, hugging his chest as he stared down at Castor. "So many sins...so many crimes weighing down his soul." 

Lyse swallowed nervously and gazed down at her friend, reaching over and daring to touch his flesh again. It was cooler, and she put more pressure on the act. 

"Castor...wake up! Please!" She begged, momentarily ignoring the boy as she focused solely on trying to revive her friend. 

"The Imperials who survived are gone," Pipin reported, and Lyse saw Raubahn approaching with Alliance troops in tow. 

"It's no ordinary man that can bring Castor to his knees," the Bull rumbled, gazing at Myst. "And then this boy shows up out of nowhere, having absorbed Castor's aether. Where are your parents, boy? Your kin?"

Myst shook his head, gazing down at his feet. "They're...dead, sir. The Garleans killed them, and I've been living in Ala Ghiri with some good folks. I...I saw the soldiers heading this way and followed out of curiosity, but I wasn't expecting this...I was hoping for some salvage to sell in town." 

"You look Ishgardian, boy," Raubahn frowned. "What are you doing in Ala Mhigo?" 

"My parents were arms runners, selling weapons to the Resistance," Myst replied, shaking his head slowly. "I...I have to go. If I'm seen..." 

"Too late," Severus tol Aurelius pointed, Lyse following his outstretched digit to see a Skull soldier quickly ducking out of sight. "The Imperials know you're here." 

"Come on!" Lyse's patience snapped. "We have to get a healer for Castor!" 

She looked back down at her friend, stroking his cool flesh with her thumb. He didn't answer, the only sound filling the Reach being that of crackling flames and the cries of the wounded. 

Death and ruin were all that was left of the Resistance. 

They'd lost. 


	7. The Nature of Void

Darkness. 

That was all he could see. 

All he could feel. 

The Void had taken over; been split upon the razor's edge of Zenos' blade. Part of it was gone: all the pain and the weight of the world that had settled upon the shoulders of his sins. 

Castor Entialpoh drifted alone in the sea of darkness, in the Void. Eternity spread out before him, the black horizons engulfing everything that was and everything that would ever be. 

There was no escape, not this time. 

"Ca-"

A voice? 

"Ge-p-yo-ve,"

What was it trying to say? Whose voice was it? 

"Get u-"

He remembered Zenos: the demon whose strength was far greater than anything else he'd ever fought. It had taken every ounce of Castor's being to resist that unholy power, and everything had shattered the moment something in the Void had placed his Soul of the Dark Knight into Deathbringer's core. 

Azim had taken over, flooding Castor's body with the might of the Sun, and the Dark had been flushed from his veins. Partially, at least.

And now he was here. 

"Castor," a voice he'd dreamed of hearing once more pierced the Void, and he lifted his head.

"Yugiri."

She was standing behind him, the crystal adorning her neck emitting a faint glow to penetrate the darkness. Still dressed in her dark shinobi garb, Yugiri smiled warmly as she approached him, the concern and affection in her eyes filling his heart with warmth. 

"Castor," she reached out and took his hand, the touch causing the world to sharpen around them. "What happened? Where are we?" 

Eh? 

"I don't know," he admitted. "All I remember is fighting Zenos yae Galvus in Rhalgr's Reach."

Yugiri did a double take, her eyes widening. "You fought the crown prince?!" 

"I did," he nodded, shaking his head as the Void softened into a blur before sharpening once more. "Gods above, what has that monster endured to obtain such strength?" 

"He defeated you?!" Yugiri's eyes immediately began scanning him, scouring for injuries. 

"Yes and no: we were almost evenly matched until...my Soul Crystal ended up in the crossguard of my weapon. Zenos shattered it, cutting it in half, and...now I'm here?" It was fuzzy and disjointed, but the memory was still there. "I have no idea what happened after that." 

Yugiri heaved a sigh. "I see...thank the kami that you are here and safe." 

"Wherever here is," Castor muttered, his head swimming as he looked around.

"Where else would this be?" A dry voice made both jump and whirl to see a man dressed in a pitch-black pauldroncoat, his face obscured by an elaborate masked helm with a crown of golden spikes. 

The Void stirred, and Castor stiffened as his Darkside crossed his arms before his chest. 

"We're inside our soul, Castor," the Darkside intoned. "I drew you here to recuperate before you would get both of us killed. It was lucky that monster decided to spare us, but there is one more thing we need to talk about."

"What?" Castor sighed, the pain in Nidhogg's wounds burning through the Void.

"Have you noticed anything different?" The Darkside asked. 

Castor frowned, focusing on the Void, and the answer came. "It feels lighter, somehow. And that voice...the one that's been following me around...it wasn't you, was it?"

The Darkside shook his head. "No, it wasn't. When the Soul Crystal was cut in half, part of us escaped, taking on a form of its own."

A form of its own? Great. Another headache to deal with. 

"Where'd it go?" He frowned, wondering if it was a good thing that that...guilt had been taken away from him.

He couldn't see the burning remains of those killed by his hand or by his orders; he couldn't hear the screams of vengeance and agony escaping the survivors. Somehow, he was free.

Or was he? 

"I don't know, but I think you'll know it when you see it," the Darkside shrugged. 

"So, what now?" Castor frowned. "The Resistance has been almost utterly destroyed, and the Fourteenth Legion, despite how much I've been boasting, is spread too thin across Eorzea. We cannot take on the Twelfth alone, no matter how much I wish we could." 

Yugiri nodded slowly. "That's right: your legion is spread all across Eorzea, combating the remaining Beast Tribes, aren't they?" 

"And the Sea of Clouds," Castor reminded her. "We're still fighting the Vanu Vanu and the Allagan creations in Azys Lla. My engineers are doing all they can to get the  _Gration_  up and running again, but it's going to take a long time."

"What other course is open to us?" The Darkside mused. "We cannot move in Gyr Abania, and the legion's in no shape to move against the Twelfth the way they are now. Even if we were to abandon all of our side projects and fully concentrate the legion, it would take far too long."

"And now we have a guilt-ridden part of my Soul running around in physical form, getting into gods-know what," Castor growled, the desire to rip anything apart nearly overwhelming him. 

Yugiri nodded slowly. "Words cannot express how worried I am for your situation, Castor...yet things have hardly been faring any better over here. Gosetsu and I have had little luck in crossing the Ruby Sea from Kugane. I fear we may be delayed further." 

"For what reasons?" Castor asked, ignoring the sigh loosed by his Darkside. 

"The Confederacy that rules the Ruby Sea, for one thing," Yugiri shook her head. "And that the Sekisegumi of Kugane are holding all ships in port. One of theirs has left to seek aid in a western land, and they're refusing to let anyone leave until their officer returns." 

"Western lands? Could they be coming to Eorzea to seek Master Musosai?" He mused aloud, drawing a shrug from his Darkside. 

"Does it matter? This...Sekise-whatever officer coming to Eorzea provides us with the answer we need as to what we must do," the specter growled. "Ala Mhigo cannot fight, now, so we must weaken the Empire's grasp somewhere else, to fan the flames of unrest and rebellion."

"Doma," Castor murmured. "We must go to Doma."

Yugiri was strangely silent, and Castor glanced over to see that she'd vanished. 

"Where is she?" 

"The connection broke, so I'm assuming either she woke up, or we're beginning to," his Darkside replied, and the Void rippled. "I'm betting on the latter." 

"He's right," familiar powers rippled, and Castor squinted as brilliant gold and silver light flared to assemble into the forms of his benefactors. 

Azim was still clad in his furs, his eyes glowing like the miniature suns they were as he offered a smile. "You must come to the Azim Steppe. The Nadaam will be upon us, and the Steppe will need a new figure in power if Doma is to break free from its shackles." 

"Nadaam?" Castor raised an eyebrow at the two eikons, and Nhaama nodded. 

"Yes: the battle of tribal supremacy. Whichever tribe claims the oovoo first shall have the right to name a reigning kahgan," she explained. 

"And you want me to be the one who claims it," Castor deadpanned as the two eikons nodded. "To what end?" 

Nhaama grinned wickedly. "Because, with the champion of the Sun and Moon on the Dawn Throne, nothing will be able to stop us! With that connection, our souls will be bound together even more tightly!" 

"And our shared power increases in potency," the Darkside mused, and the Void rippled again, beginning to lighten. "Damn...you're waking up. Keep an eye out for that fool of ours, eh?" 

The darkness yielded to the brightening light.

Pain. Hot agony seeped through every pore in his body, and a groan escaped his dry, raw throat. 

"Castor!" A familiar voice sent knives through his skull, eliciting a wince that pushed even more agony into his liquified muscles. 

He could see white, a humanoid shadow thrusting itself into his field of view as something soft tickled his nose. Fingers clutched his right hand, making his bones creak and ache in protest with increased, heated agony. 

"Lyse?" He rasped as the world sharpened into focus, magic pouring into his screaming body. 

"Ah! Finally!" Another relieved voice drew his attention to a certain Padjali White Mage, whose pale face was slick with sweat. "It appears whatever you were doing to block my magic has faded, thank the Elementals!" 

Soothing waves crashed over his body, drowning the pain with a blessed chill and banishing the nausea that threatened to separate his head from his shoulders. 

"Kan-E...thank you," he murmured, turning his eyes back to Lyse. "Sorry to worry you...what happened with Zenos?" 

Lyse sniffled, reaching up with her free hand to brush aside relieved tears as she shook her head. "He left after you fell. And then this boy showed up..." 

Boy? Was it really that foolish?

Castor pushed his aching back to rise, white sheets falling away from his bare chest as he did so, and his gaze roamed around the massive pavilion. A sea of cots and makeshift beds stretched out beneath the white tarp, each one hosting a wounded Alliance or Resistance soldier bound with blood-stained bandages. 

Y'shtola was resting in the bed beside his, her gauze-wrapped chest rising and falling with each breath she took. She was alive...thank the gods.

The air stunk of blood and bodily fluids, thick with sweat and the heat of so many bodies crammed together as the wounded groaned up a chorus. Conjurers and chirurgeons moved among the beds, faces ashen and grim as they tended to their many charges. 

And then he saw it: the young boy who looked shockingly similar to Ysayle, seated upon an empty crate as he watched the bustle. His face was twisted into a sorrowful expression as it roamed across the sea of wounded, those icy irises widening with shock as they met Castor's own. 

"There you are, git," Castor growled, rage burning through his breast as he shoved the covers off his bare torso and leaped to his feet. 

The 'boy' jumped down from his crate and scrambled out the nearest entrance, resulting in alarmed shouts from outside followed by a crash. 

"What?! Castor, what are you-" Lyse's voice fell behind as Castor rocketed out of the sickroom, immediately spotting the Ishgardian knight who'd been knocked onto his rear. 

"Ah, Ser Entialpoh!" The man winced as he rose to his feet. "By Halone, that boy's stronger than he looks!" 

"Where did he go?" Castor bit back a snarl, scanning the bustling crowd of soldiers until he spotted the tell-tale flash of silver hair. "There!" 

He pushed his way through the startled crowd, pursuing that fleeting silver flash as the 'boy' tried to escape. 

"Castor! Wait!" Lyse was shouting after him, and he could hear her pushing through the crowd on his heels. "Castor!" 

He ignored her, pushing on after the lost fragment of his soul. His muscles protested, agony searing his flesh and tendons, but still Castor pushed on. 

Soldiers shouted in alarm as the Dark Knight shoved his way through them, never taking his eyes off of that silver-haired 'boy' even as he ducked into what appeared to be a hole in the wall of the Reach. 

Castor tore after him, finding himself in a cavern of sorts filled with graves. His Soul was there as well, looking around frantically for an escape route that didn't exist. 

"You," Castor's lips peeled back into a snarl, his vision distorting and rippling as the fragment's wide eyes met his. "You damn near got me killed!" 

The fragment looked about frantically, and then dark energies rippled around it as it raised a hand. 

A swirling abyss formed between the two of them, and Castor's head screamed with agony as a humanoid form emerged from the darkness. 

"Castor! Cas-" Lyse's cry devolved into a strangled scream. 

Yda-the true Yda-was standing before them, eyes gleaming and lips curved into a gentle smile as she gazed upon her sister and her killer. 

Castor's muscles turned to lead, and he collapsed to his knees, the screaming in his mind intensifying until that banshee maelstrom was all he could fathom. 

"Yda?!" Lyse whimpered, her presence rooted to the spot behind Castor. "What's going on?"

"Lyse...little sister," the specter's eyes shone with pride through the dark, howling haze. "You've grown so much." 

It hurt. It hurt so much.

Castor clutched at his head, at the clawing, screaming darkness that was shredding the inside of his skull. 

GET IT OUT!

"Y-Yda," Lyse choked, and he could hear the tears hitting the ground behind her. "What is this? What's going on?" 

"This one is using the aether he absorbed from Castor to create a memory, of sorts," Yda answered, her gaze punching his agonized head. "Apparently, it's causing Castor quite a lot of pain." 

There was satisfaction in her voice, he knew it. She enjoyed watching her murderer writhing at her feet, didn't she? 

Lyse's fist slammed into the wall. "Well, stop it! Please...I-I know this isn't real...so please...stop it..." 

"You have the chance to say what you wish you had in the past," the fragment spoke up softly, his voice a masculine echo of Ysayle's. "To see your beloved sister one more time; to ease the guilt you've carried with you." 

"Lyse...little sister...I can't be here long: Castor's aether is unstable," Yda spoke up again, knives scraping through Castor's skull at her remark. "But, I just wanted to tell you how proud I am." 

"How...proud?" Lyse stammered. "But...all I've done is hide behind your mask, doing an impersonation of you that nobody even fell for!" 

"You stayed true to yourself, little sister, through all of your struggles. I will forever be grateful to Papalymo for guiding you, and to Castor for befriending you," Yda's feet filled his vision, and the face that still haunted his dreams was thrust into his own. "Castor Entialpoh...you've endured so much and struggled so greatly, all for the realm that I once fought to protect. You've protected my sister and cared for her, despite our past differences, and for that, I am eternally grateful." 

Was she going to kill him? 

Right here? 

Take her ultimate revenge against the one who'd murdered her and her father?

End it...end this pain...this screaming!

It hurt!

Please!

Yda's fingers brushed against his chin, forcing his eyes up to meet his own. She smiled.

"I forgive you, Castor. Please, keep supporting Lyse with all you can muster," Yda rose, removing her hand and striding over to her stunned sister. She drew the younger girl into her arms, shining tears falling from both of them as Lyse clung tightly to the specter. "Lyse...I'm so proud of you, little sister. Keep being strong, and everything will work out in one way or another. I love you." 

"Yda!" Lyse sobbed, burying her face into her sister's shoulder.

Castor threw his head back and howled as the searing agony increased tenfold, his very soul splitting apart into a thousand pieces. Yda's body dissolved almost instantly into a swirling abyss, Lyse falling through it and roughly hitting the ground at his side. 

"Ow!"

Castor fought to rise to his feet, hissing under his breath as he extended his hand to the abyss, to his aether, and willed it to return. The abyss responded to his call: shadowy darkness drawing towards him and wrapping itself around his arm. 

It joined with his soul once again, the faintest whisper reaching his ears as the two parts stitched themselves together.

_"I forgive you."_

The pain faded, but the weakness remained. Castor stumbled, clutching the wall to retain his balance. 

"Gods damn it...where'd you go, boy?" His voice was hoarse and raw as he looked through the haze for the missing fragment. 

It was gone, having taken advantage of the confusion to slip away. Damn it!

"C-Castor..." Lyse stammered.

She had pushed herself back up onto her hands and knees, cheeks stained with the tears falling from her glossy eyes. 

"What was that?" 

A bunch of murmuring drew his heavy head up, to where dozens of Alliance and Resistance troops were standing at the entrance, eyes wide as they stared at the duo. 

"Yes, what in the name of Hydaelyn was that?" Thancred strode in, his hands crossed before his chest. 

Fools...they were getting in his way! They let it escape! 

"Zenos cut my Soul Crystal in half, and I was split as a result of it," Castor tried to move, but the world spun underneath his feet and forced him to halt. "The fragment of my Soul that's been running around is fueled by grief and a desire to atone for everything I've done...all the blood I've spilled; the lives I've taken." 

"And that...fragment is capable of using your aether to create shades of certain people?" Thancred mused, his expression softening. "For what purpose?"

"To free others of their guilt, of their regrets and lingering doubts," Castor lied, even if it was only partial. "And to make my life a living hell, I'm sure." 

Voices filtered in from the crowd, who began parting as a certain golden-haired Padjal pushed her way through it. Kan-E paused at the entrance to the gravesite, her face stern as she leaned on her staff. 

"Castor Entialpoh, I was not finished treating your wounds," she stated, voice as hard as steel. "And now you've gone and opened them again." 

Eh? 

It was at this moment that he became conscious of his bare chest, as well as the liquid warmth seeping from the gashes left by Nidhogg's Eyes. 

He glanced down at the pale, weeping scar tissues, frowning at the welts as blood leaked from the ragged remains of flesh and muscle. 

"It doesn't matter. I have to find that damn thing before it-" he started to move forward, but Kan-E's staff head whacked his chest and remained there, pulsing with magical power. 

"I think not," came the ominous whisper. 

Castor swallowed nervously as his gaze met that of the steely-eyed Padjal. 

 _"Well, he's dead."_ Azim. 

 _"It was nice knowing you, Castor."_ Nhaama.  _"I'll always love you."_

Ah, hells, he was in for it now. 

 

The fragment, now named Myste, gasped for breath as it forced heated, arid oxygen into its lungs. Leaning against the dusty, red rock towering above it, Myst took a moment to gaze at the far-off town of Ala Ghiri, surrounded by thick walls meant to withstand siege.

They would be looking for him now, even if Castor couldn't. He had to somehow make the people in the town accept him...Myst glanced down at his hand, conjuring a swirling mass of dark aether within his palm. 

Yes...this would suffice...twisting the memories of the people with Castor's power would be child's play, and then he could begin righting every wrong they'd ever committed. 

Myst strode towards Ala Ghiri, black petals rising from each footstep. 

"You plan to what?" Raubahn stared at him with wide eyes. 

"You heard me: Ala Mhigo's resistance is done for now, and my legion is spread too thin to coordinate a full-scale assault on our own," Castor ignored Severus' pointed glare and crossed his freshly-bandaged arms. "So, we must divert the Empire's attention to another front, one that is also conveniently under Zenos' heel." 

"Doma," Alisaie answered. "If we can take Doma and open that front...Other nations could be inspired to rise up. The Empire will be distracted, struggling to dampen the flames of rebellion everywhere they spring up." 

Castor nodded. "She's right. Once Doma is freed, we can bring the fight back to Ala Mhigo."

"Are you so certain that's how everything will pan out?" Alphinaud growled. "What's to stop the Empire from simply retaking Doma when you leave?" 

Castor smiled coldly at him. "They'll be too busy stamping out rebellion to worry about Doma, my little friend. Trust me: the second word spreads that Doma successfully threw off the Empire's yoke, resistance factions will begin to openly rebel against their occupiers." 

Everyone standing around the command tent in Castrum Oriens stared at him, most with eyebrows raised. 

"I...I believe him," Lyse spoke up hesitantly, her voice still raw. "He understands how the Empire works, more than any of us. If freeing Doma is the first step we must take to free Ala Mhigo...I say we do it." 

Castor nodded slowly, turning to Severus to speak with him when the Tribunus cut him off.

"Well, it's decided, then: My lord, you will go to Doma to free her from the Empire's clutches, while the rest of the Fourteenth continues to coordinate with the Alliance, here in Ala Mhigo." 

Castor glared at the Tribunus. "Excuse me? I'm not just going to leave my legion here while I go gallivanting off halfway across the world!" 

Severus chuckled, crossing his black-clad arms as he shook his head. "My lord,  _you_  have to go to Doma. Not only are you the only one-man-army we have here, but you are quite possibly the only man who'd be able to inspire the masses to revolt. Think: The world already knows the Fourteenth as the legion of traitors whose goal is to bring the Empire crashing down, no? How do you think the other provinces would react upon hearing that the legatus of the Fourteenth Legion is the liberator of first Doma, and then Ala Mhigo?" 

"And if Zenos shows up, which he'll have to once we start stirring up trouble, I am the only one in this world who could possibly stand against him," Castor could see the logic in his lieutenant's words, damn it! 

"What if Zenos just moves against us here?" Alphinaud once again tried to be the voice of reason. 

Castor shook his head. "He won't. You guys aren't even worth his time, save for as a nuisance to be swatted aside. Zenos won't put any real effort into exterminating what he believes is a dead Resistance. It's me he'll be looking for." 

Everyone around him either flinched, went pale, or narrowed their eyes at him, but none spoke. 

"Severus: I place you in temporary command of the Fourteenth Legion in my absence. I will entrust you with the lives of your comrades; will you take responsibility for your brothers and sisters?" 

Severus straightened, holding his fist over his heart in salute. "I will not disappoint you, my lord. And if I should do so, I will gladly give my life as atonement." 

"You will be held to your oath, Tribunus laticlavius," Castor sighed heavily, unhooking the massive wrist-cannon adorning his left arm and offering it to his lieutenant. 

Severus reached out and accepted the bulky weaponry, metal clacking as the gauntlet hit his chest. "I will not fail. If you'll allow me to bring you back to Castrum Meridianum, we've been working on a backup suit of armor in case you needed it." 

"Yes...I'd draw too much attention like this...and I'll have to refrain from carrying Heirsbane or Bastardbluss," Castor shook his head. "Nothing screams 'I'm an Imperial traitor or spy' like a gunblade of any kind." 

"I'll go with you," Lyse offered, stepping forward.

Castor shook his head, then paused as a stray vision of Yda flickered before his mind. "Actually...I'd enjoy your company. Come on."

Severus saluted again and guided the duo back into the maze of Baelsar's Wall, stopping at an airship landing pad that held an idling vessel. The trio climbed aboard and seated themselves on metal benches as the Legion airship's entire frame shook with the power of its engines. The vessel lifted off into the sky, rising higher and higher before settling itself into the smooth rhythm of controlled flight. 

Lyse was staring at her knees, an unfocused gaze in her eyes as she clenched her fists before relaxing them repeatedly. 

"Lyse?" 

She jumped, her blonde locks swaying as she glanced up at him. "I'm okay...I think."

"I'm sorry," Castor glanced down upon her, knowing that his heart should be swelling with guilt, with the weight of yet another sin to his name. 

Yet, he felt nothing. Nothing but the rage. 

"Why are you sorry?" Lyse asked, staring at him. 

Castor met her gaze and held it, his heart still free of guilt and shame. "For what happened in that gravesite...with Yda and the fragment of my Soul. I...I had no idea that it was capable of doing that..." 

"It wasn't your fault, Castor," Lyse shook her head. "You didn't ask for Zenos to cut your Soul Crystal in half. Speaking of which, how did your Soul Crystal end up in your sword, to begin with? Isn't it always in your pouch with the others?" 

Castor glanced down at the satchel in question, carefully prying it open to gaze at the multicolored Souls shimmering within. The black, eldritch half of his Soul of the Dark Knight was there, with the others, still bleeding a faint scarlet aura from the break.

"It was always supposed to be here with the others, not in the core of Deathbringer," Castor glared accusingly at the broken half of the black crystal. "The moment I stepped foot in Gyr Abania, I've been plagued by visions and voices of my past sins, reminding me of all the innocent blood I've shed." 

"It seems that was the catalyst for your guilt taking on a physical form," Severus murmured from another bench. "Or, the catalyst for prompting your guilt to split the Soul Crystal and leech off of its power to manifest into said physical form." 

"Are you still attuned to it?" Lyse asked, and Castor shrugged.

"Partially. With only half a crystal and no greatsword, I can't fully attune to the Soul, so I had to attune myself to the Soul of the Samurai, in the meantime," Castor experimentally moved his freshly-healed body, his powerful muscles yearning to draw his katana and unleash it upon his enemies. 

He could feel the blade at his side, humming slightly in response to his heartbeat; truly an extension of his soul. The weapon felt almost alive, within his hands and without. 

"What was it like?" Lyse asked after what seemed like an eternity. "Learning to use that sword?" 

"The Soul Crystal was easy to attune to, truth be told, and I'm used to deciphering the memories of my predecessors," Castor gently patted the blade's fabric-wrapped hilt. "What actually was a challenge was learning to curb my inhuman strength and rely more upon finesse, unlike with the Soul of the Dark Knight. I nearly killed Master Musosai when he first tested me in Ul'dah, truth be told, and he never once stopped berating me for favoring force over finesse." 

He chuckled. "I actually broke this sword about five times because I was swinging it too hard, expecting it to be as strong and dense as Deathbringer, and Master Musosai made me reforge it every time that happened." 

Lyse giggled at that, no doubt picturing Castor slaving away over a hot forge, repairing a weapon he'd broken for the fifth time while the stern visage of his master gazed on in disapproval. 

"Somehow, I'm not surprised," Severus commented. "I can only hope the more advanced metals you took from our stores will make the blade stronger." 

Castor drew the blade, partially exposing the gleaming black and silver steel that comprised his weapon. "They have, believe me. It's not nearly as dense as Deathbringer, but it's far stronger than ordinary blades." 

He slid the weapon back into its scabbard and turned his gaze back to the distant horizon, watching the lush Gridanian forest yield before the harsh deserts of Thanalan. As the ship cruised over the Highbridge, Castor noted, with no small amount of pleasure, that the defending garrison of Brass Blades were fleeing before yet another onslaught of Qiqirn raiders. 

In the place of the utterly incompetent Brass Blades and their idiot leader, Huncbert-wasn't that him and his two lieutenants at the head of those fleeing? -were scarlet and black legionaries, their line one that no rat was capable of crossing in one piece. 

"Some protectors of Thanalan they are," Severus sniffed as the scene was left behind in favor for the desert. 

Castor merely nodded and turned his gaze to what lay ahead, glad for the reprieve the breeze offered against the blasting heat. Not that it really affected him if he just drew on Ifrit. 

They flew over Black Brush, and then the skies darkened as Camp Bluefog greeted the airship from below. Lightning still crackled from the roiling clouds, the blue-tinted mist shrouding the land heavily reducing visibility. 

Bright specks dotted the dark, craggy landscape, flames dancing within braziers or torches as Immortal Flame soldiers performed their patrols in the shadows. 

Not even a malm from the camp lay the Ceruleum Processing Facility, which was now nestled behind glowing black steel, protected further by a castellum erected from within the ruins of an old Amanjina and Sons mine shaft and several magitek outposts rising from the fog. 

Only a fool would dare challenge this might, especially with the towering walls of Meridianum rising behind the facility. The dark forms of patrolling legionaries, accompanied by the shining lights of Reapers or Vanguards, brought pride to Castor's chest, and he turned his gaze back to Meridianum. 

The repairs to the fortress were proceeding smoothly: all of the outer walls and siege works had been completely repaired and refurbished, and most of the inner facilities had been restored to full functionality. Aside from some hastily-patched holes in the via praetoria, it was almost perfect. 

And then Castor saw the massive shell being erected around what had once been the decimated remains of the Praetorium, dreadnaught gunships and airships not unlike his own buzzing around the skeleton as the star-like glows of welding torches and magitek lasers shone from the titanic surface. 

"It's looking good, Tribunus," Castor commented, his gaze sweeping over the great gaps in the superstructure and within, at the slowly expanding nervous system of the Fourteenth Legion's new seat of power. 

"Thank you, my lord," Severus tried to keep his pride from his voice and narrowly succeeded. "With this newer design you suggested, the Praetorium will be even stronger than it was under Lord van Baelsar. I wish I could have thought of half of the improvements you suggested, my lord." 

Castor shook his head. "You are not giving yourself nearly enough credit, Tribunus: I presented the design, yes, but it was you who made it a reality. This marvel is all of the Legion's to share in the credit."

"As you say, my lord." 

The airship lowered itself onto a platform near the living quarters, allowing its passengers to depart, and Castor felt Lyse step closer to him. Without speaking, he guided her into the maze of black metal corridors, magitek lights painting each hall with veins of luminescence. Before long, he arrived at the doors to his own chambers, which hissed open to greet their master.

He strode inside and immediately spotted what Severus had been speaking of: another set of curious-looking armor resting upon a mannequin. A thick, pitch-black duster comprised of advanced fabrics was draped over an equally thick metal breastplate the color of the moon. Black breeches lowered to the floor, ending in boots clearly designed for combat, both encased in thin, flexible sheets of grey steel.  

It reminded him of his old Chaos armor. 

"It's impressive, Severus," Castor reached out and brushed his uncovered left hand against the thick fabric of the duster, feeling it scrape against his flesh. It was strong, without a doubt. It would easily shield him, alongside the armor. 

"Thank you, my lord," Severus bowed. "It should nicely compliment your fighting style with the katana." 

"Which will be useful in the East," Castor remarked, glancing back at Lyse, who was fiddling with her fingers as she stared at the floor. "Lyse."

Her eyes widened as she jolted, gaze ripping upwards to meet his. "Y-yes?"

He grinned at her as he nodded at his new armor. "Some privacy? Please?" 


	8. Steel on Steel

When Castor came out, the black duster of his new armor swished around him as a cloak of pure shadow, the silver-grey metal encasing the rest of his body eerily silent as the thin sheets folded and glided along with each movement he made. 

The katana's black scabbard hung at his waist in that odd upside-down fashion he wore it in, and Lyse again found herself wondering just why he kept it that way. She'd never seen him draw it from that position, to tell the truth; he'd always had the weapon unsheathed whenever she saw him using it. 

It looked awkward, but Lyse was no swordswoman. She preferred her fists, and the only time she'd attempted to use a sword, she'd nearly cut her own fingers off. 

Castor, on the other hand, was peerless with a blade. 

"How does it fit, my lord?" Severus asked, pushing himself from the desk he'd been leaning on.

"Perfectly, Severus. I can feel the strength of your work within every fiber," Castor's deep voice echoed through Lyse's body, resonating within every bone and pore. 

Severus straightened more, his pride almost radiating from his body. "You honor me, my lord. May it serve you well in Doma!" 

"And so it shall," Castor glanced back at the room he'd left, shaking his head slowly. "Apologies for making you wait, Lyse. Are you ready?"

She paused, confusion bubbling from her mind. "Ready? For what?" 

Sorrow flickered within Castor's golden eyes before fading. "There are a few places I need to visit before we leave, and I...would like you to come with me, if you'd humor me." 

Lyse nodded, her head moving before she even put any conscious thought into it. 

His smile warmed her heart and eased all of her worries, and her head swam as his strong fingers enclosed hers. "Thank you. Hold tightly to me." 

She obeyed, gripping his arm as if her life depended on it.

The world spun and warped around them, rippling as the duo were pulled through the swirling darkness of the Lifestream. And the darkness was replaced with the sheer white expanse of Coerthas, the bitter chill drawing a yelp from Lyse as she clutched at her mostly bare arms and midriff. 

They were standing atop a great cliff overlooking the massive expanse of the Sea of Clouds, and Lyse could see Ishgard in the distance, lording over it all. When she glanced behind them, Lyse was met with the crumbling, ancient walls of the Steel Vigil. 

"W-why are w-we in C-Coerthas?" Her teeth chattered, and she quickly clamped her mouth shut before she could bite her own tongue. 

Castor didn't answer, instead kneeling before a gravestone that Lyse hadn't noticed. 

'Haurchefant Greystone' was etched across its surface, and Lyse's heart skipped a beat at the sight of the shield leaning up against the headstone. 

"O-oh," her words died on her lips, and Lyse silently cursed herself for her inability to comfort her kneeling, suffering friend. 

Castor's body shimmered with aether, and a wave of heat settled upon Lyse's shivering form. She sighed as the welcome reprieve from the freeze washed over her, stilling her tremors. Lyse strode around Castor and found him facing the gravestone, his head bowed as his lips moved in silent prayer. 

She watched in silence as he finished, rising as the breeze threw his duster about. 

"There's one more stop I must make," he said.

"Ysayle?" Lyse guessed, surprised when Castor shook his head.

"No. My master, but I don't know where Momozigo buried him, so we'll have to go to Ul'dah," Castor offered her his arm, and she took it without hesitation. 

Again the world bent into the swirling currents of the Lifestream, rippling and distorting and filling Lyse with a feeling of weightlessness, until it burst into the dry, arid heat of Thanalan.

Lyse's breath was snatched away from her for a brief moment by the heat before she adjusted. She could hear the bustle of the markets nearby, the chatter of people and the shouts of merchants hawking their wares. The scents, familiar and foreign, hit her nostrils, and nostalgia bubbled up inside of her. 

"Ah, Castor!" A Lalafell's voice made both turn to see said Lalafell hurrying over, clad in colorful showman's garb. "Excellent timing! I was about to send for you!" 

Castor nodded. "Well, it's fortunate, indeed: I was seeking you, as well." 

The Lalafell paused, then hurriedly glanced around. "Is she still nearby?"

Lyse looked at the bustling street around them, spotting more than one novice adventurer rushing about, performing menial tasks for the Guild they now stood before. 

"Who?" Castor asked, right as a short, foreign-looking woman in strange robes strode down from the stairs, odd sandals clicking against the stone with each step. 

A katana rested on her hip in similar fashion to Castor's, her rather attractive face lighting up the moment she spotted the towering Au Ra. 

"Ah!" She all but dashed the last few steps to halt before Castor, bowing stiffly. "You must be Sir Castor!" 

Castor returned the bow as the woman straightened. "I am. To what do I owe this honor, my lady?" 

"I am Makoto, of the Sekisegumi," the black-haired woman smiled warmly, her voice carrying a rather faint accent. "I've traveled to Eorzea from Kugane, seeking Master Musosai. Sir Momozigo was kind enough to receive me at the port and has been catering to my needs, which I will forever be grateful for."

Momozigo flinched and rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. "W-well, I ran into Musosai at the same port, and I wanted to reminisce, and when I found our friend here asking after him at Vesper Bay, I knew I couldn't just turn her away!" 

"Did you travel here from Limsa?" Castor asked, and the woman nodded, a rather dazed look flitting into her eyes.

"I've never seen anything like that city or this one," she admitted. "It's so strange, yet so beautiful." 

"I'm glad to hear that you think as such," Castor smiled, Makoto relaxing even further. "Now, you came here seeking my master?" 

Makoto's face fell. "Yes, I did...but I've arrived too late, it would seem." 

"I was actually about to show her where the man's grave is," Momozigo spoke up. "Which is why I was trying to get ahold of you, Castor."

Castor's features hardened slightly. "I came here for the same reason. Could you lead the way?" 

Momozigo nodded. "Right! Follow me!"

The Lalafell hurried over to a chocobo porter standing by the Gates of Thal, hurriedly conversing with the yellow-costumed man before handing over a sack of gil. 

"I'll get the carriage set up momentarily, sir!" The porter quickly strode off, the bird at his side following suit. 

"I must admit: I don't think I will ever get used to the sight of your strange horse-birds," Makoto murmured, her unease palpable as she rubbed the hilt of her sword. 

Castor gave her a sympathetic smile. "I imagine it's strange, indeed, but the chocobos are quite tame, I assure you." 

The samurai relaxed noticeably, and her smile once again graced her lips. "I will trust your judgement, sir." 

"Please, just call me Castor, Lady Makoto," Castor bowed his head in a show of respect. 

At that moment, the chocobo porter strode back towards them, patting his hands as if to clear them of dust. "Ah, sirs and madams! The carriage is ready!" 

Momozigo nodded. "Right, then! Shall we be off?" 

Lyse fell into step at Castor's side without thinking, that Makoto woman doing the same on his other side as they moved through the great gates. Arid heat blasted her face, but Lyse stole a glance at Makoto. 

The Eastern maiden was already fanning herself, beads of sweat trickling down her face as she attempted to shield herself from the unforgiving sun. 

"Not used to such heat, my lady?" Castor asked kindly, the concern in his voice sending sparks through Lyse's nerves. 

"I-I am not," Makoto admitted, the embarrassment plain in her voice.

Lyse glanced over as Castor shifted, watching as he lifted his hand and gently placed it upon Makoto's shoulder. Pale aether flared, and the flush in the woman's cheeks faded almost instantly. 

"M-my word!" Makoto beamed at him. "What is that wonderful magic? I can scarcely feel the heat!" 

Castor nodded. "I am glad to hear that, my lady."

"Come! Come!" Momozigo called from the carriage awaiting the party. "Master Musosai's final resting place awaits us!" 

Castor chuckled as Lyse leaped aboard and took her seat on the rough bench, pausing as she felt the airborne carriage sway under her feet. Makoto approached hesitantly, warily eyeing the floating chocobo-borne vehicle until Castor's towering form strode up beside her, offering a hand.

"T-thank you, sir," she flushed with embarrassment and accepted his hand, allowing    
Castor to guide her up onto the carriage. "This is such a strange land..."

Castor added his weight to the vessel, making it dip slightly as the airstones keeping it afloat fought to adjust, and Lyse eased herself into the bench as her friend settled into the space at her side. 

Makoto seated herself beside Momozigo, removing her katana and leaning it against her legs as she shifted in her seat. 

"Everyone all set back there?" The driver called, not even awaiting affirmation before flicking the reins. 

The chocobo surged forward, squawking as the harness snapped taut without so much as a jolt to the carriage. The driver flushed with embarrassment and flicked the reins again, and again the poor bird heaved against the harness with little affect. 

Castor sighed. "Well, this is what I was afraid of. I pray it doesn't mean I have to go on a diet." 

Lyse stared at him. "What are you talking about?" 

"Is something holding us down?" The driver muttered, glancing around at the underside of the carriage. "My apologies, my friends!" 

"No apologies needed, sir," Castor sighed and wormed his way off of the carriage, wood and metal groaning until his feet hit the dusty ground. "There, try it again." 

 The driver urged his mount forward once more, and the bird, still expecting a heavy weight, lunged with all of its weight and strength. 

"Whoa!" The passengers yelped and clung to the carriage as the vessel jolted forward violently before the driver calmed his beast. 

Lyse swore under her breath as splinters dug into her fingers from clutching the wood side of the carriage even as sharp pain pierced her nerves. 

"By the kami!" Makoto was picking herself off the floor, shaking her head in bewilderment. "That's a strong horse-bird!" 

"My apologies! Is everyone unharmed?" The driver had turned an even deeper shade of red, his eyes wide with shock as he surveyed his passengers. 

"We're fine!" Momozigo assured him.

Aether swirled and rippled beside the carriage as a sharp whistle pierced the air, and Lyse looked back at Castor as a steady rhythm of hoofbeats clopped against the dusty earth. 

"Eh?" 

"What?" The Warrior of Twilight was now sitting astride a massive steed with pitch-black armor and flesh, the fiery red of its eyes matching the mane and tail perfectly. "I was obviously holding the carriage down, so Sleipnir will have to do. He's been wanting to stretch more, anyway." 

Sleipnir? Odin's steed? 

The dark stallion snorted in assent, shaking its mane as Castor patted his muscular neck. 

Makoto stared at the horse, her jaw agape, but she quickly returned her attention to the carriage as the driver urged the chocobo forward again. 

"I have never seen such a summon," the samurai murmured, her unease palpable as she gazed at Sleipnir's massive body. "You are powerful, indeed." 

Castor gave her an apologetic smile. "Thank you, my lady. Now, perhaps you could tell us more about Kugane?" 

Makoto's eyes lit up immediately, and she smiled. "I would be glad to!" 

The easterner began regaling the group with tales of her home in Kugane, ranging from the markets to the bathhouse where people could bathe in groups. The woman's eyes shone as she explained every detail she could, and Lyse found herself unable to tear her focus away from the story flowing from the samurai's mouth.

Until the carriage came to a halt, followed by a call of "We've arrived!". 

Lyse glanced around in surprise, her eyes immediately honing onto the Silver Bazaar. The central plaza was, as always, bustling with traders and mercenaries. 

"Hey! Castor!" A pink-haired Lalafell was waving to the Warrior of Twilight as he dismounted, his ghostly steed snorting and shaking its head. 

"Hey, Kikipu," Castor waved back, striding over to the woman. "How have things been lately?" 

The Lalafell beamed at him. "Business has been booming! This place used to be a ghost town, but thanks to a certain someone, we've been attracting traders from all over Eorzea again!' 

"A certain someone?" Makoto echoed, oblivious to the curious stares she was receiving from the others in the bazaar. 

Kikipu nodded, grinning at the woman. "Not from around here, are ya? Well, Castor here-"

"Is on a short time frame," Castor answered, his gaze turning to Momozigo. "Where is it?" 

The showman nodded. "This way!" 

Castor apologized to Kikipu, who merely curtsied in response, and the group set off after Momozigo. The showman skirted the earthen buildings of the Bazaar, pointedly ignoring hawking merchants, and Lyse gaped at the vast sea that stretched to the horizon behind the settlement. 

A recently mound of dirt rose from a recently dug grave, a beautiful katana rising hilt-first into the air as a sort of marker. 

"He wanted me to bury him where he could see the eastern sea," Momozigo explained. 

Castor and Makoto, both, sank to their knees before the grave, clasping their hands in silent prayer as they bowed their heads. 

After a moment, the two samurai rose simultaneously and bowed to the grave one last time before turning to one another with amused grins on their lips. 

"Thank you for coming to see him," Castor bowed his head. "It must have been a long journey for you." 

Makoto flushed. "My intentions were hardly...selfless, sir...I was hoping Master Musosai would have been willing to help me subdue a violent insurrection back in Kugane."

"It's his former pupil, isn't it? Ugetsu?" Castor asked, and the woman nodded. 

"Kugane?" Lyse spoke without even meaning to, capturing everyone's attention. "Isn't that where Yugiri and Gosetsu went?" 

"And it's where we'll have to go if we're to start our campaign against the Empire in Doma," Castor nodded. 

Makoto looked at him in shock. "You plan to fight the Empire?!"

"In Doma," Castor answered. "We need to give the Resistance cells in Ala Mhigo time to recover from the viceroy's assault, so our efforts would best be spent opening another front in the East." 

"Divert their attention and spark more flames than they can quench," Makoto mused, nodding slowly. 

"Correct," Castor opened his mouth to say more, but a deep voice cut off whatever he was about to say.

"There you are, Entialpoh!" A burly Roegadyn dressed in furs strode over from the bazaar, his red beard and moustache not hiding his grin.

"Ah, Broken Mountain!" Castor nodded to the man, and Lyse spotted a grimoire on Broken Mountain's waist. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" 

"I was searching for you, truth be told," the beaming Roegadyn's face fell the second he saw the grave. "My apologies, I...did I arrive at an inopportune time?" 

Castor shook his head. "It's fine, my friend. Now, what did you need me for?" 

"Gorge and I received a challenge from the Wolves' Den," the man dug out a scroll from his satchel and offered it to Castor. "They specifically ask for the Warriors, so...?" 

Castor unrolled the parchment and scanned it, a faint grin forming upon his lips. "Heh, we have some time to kill before we make preparations to leave for Doma, and I'll have to go to Limsa, anyway, to track down a willing captain...I don't see why not." 

Broken Mountain laughed, pumping his fist into the air. "Excellent! We can take the boat I used to get here!" 

"Will it hold all of us?" Lyse found herself asking, hesitating. 

She wasn't the biggest fan of sea travel, which was why she was glad to have been stationed in Gridania, rather than Limsa. 

"Easily, my friends!" The Roegadyn turned away from them. "Come, let us away before the captain leaves!" 

Castor chuckled and turned to Makoto. "Forgive me, but-" 

"I'd very much like to see this challenge of yours," the woman cut him off with a grin, Momozigo nodding enthusiastically. 

"Indeed! It isn't every day that one gets the chance to watch the Warrior of Twilight, himself, take on challengers!" 

Castor shrugged. "Alright. With me!" 

Lyse met his gaze and grinned, excitement bubbling within her own chest as she followed Castor down to the docks of the Bazaar, where Broken Mountain was haggling with the skipper of a ferry boat. 

After a moment, a satchel of gil was handed over, and Broken Mountain waved the rest of the group over. 

"Hey, we're ready!" 

Within her breast sparked anticipation, and Lyse held onto that feeling as she climbed into the creaking ferry/ The scent of the sea was overpowering, Lyse squinting as salty spray spattered across her face. 

Castor climbed aboard, but the ferry was large enough to easily accommodate his great frame, and the Warrior of Twilight settled himself in the center of the vessel. 

Lyse sat on a bench near him, bracing herself for the swaying of the deck as she clutched her knees. Makoto and the other two sat across from her, observing the crew as they bustled about, preparing the ship to launch. 

"Casting off!" The skipper called, nautical terms Lyse couldn't even begin to translate flowing from his mouth as his crew scurried about, untying or tying ropes, folding canvas and stuffing it into empty crates. 

"Headed for the Wolves' Den!" 

"Wolves' Den?" Makoto frowned, her katana resting upon her lap. "That sounds quite foreboding." 

"It's a training ground for the Alliance soldiers," Broken Mountain explained. "Well...more like a roughshod competition to see whose troops can beat the ever-living shite out of each other in the most efficient manner while not being knocked onto their rears." 

Makoto stared at him with wide eyes, and Lyse could almost see the gears turning in the woman's head as she tried to make sense of what was being said. 

"I understand how it sounds," Castor chuckled. "It's not as elegant as samurai training, but it gets the job done...somewhat." 

"Ah, so you're also a samurai?" Broken Mountain spoke up. "I must confess, I hadn't seen the katana at your hip until now...Are you from Kugane, like Musosai?" 

Makoto nodded. "I am, sir. I actually came to Eorzea seeking Master Musosai, but, alas, I was too late." 

Broken Mountain cringed. "Ah...so, that was...I see. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Don't be: Master Musosai died as a true samurai, with his dignity and honor intact," Castor shook his head. "He died the way he wanted to, and it is my responsibility to see that his legacy is one that he'd be proud of." 

"I'm glad to hear that," Makoto smiled softly to herself. "But...many others back home do not share the same sentiments." 

Castor's neutral expression twisted to something Lyse couldn't recognize, just for the briefest of moments, and then the calm stone was back. "I know...he said as such." 

They fell into silence, just listening to the crashing waves as the vessel cut through the surface, the crew settling into a routine familiar to them. 

"Hey, there it is!" A man bellowed, drawing the gaze of his passengers. 

Lyse had to admit: the sprawling docks of the structure were impressive, given that a good portion of the Den had been etched out of a large ship. Soldiers bearing all four of the Alliance's colors dashed about here and there, accompanied by adventurer conscripts, heaving around crates and barrels of supplies. 

The ferry crew began prepping their vessel for landing: readying ropes and furling sails. Castor watched them in silence, not moving as the hull bumped against the dock with a soft thud. 

Lyse managed to keep her balance, rising as the crew secured the vessel. The others followed suit, Broken Mountain leading the way onto the crowded docks. Makoto slipped her katana back into her belt and joined Lyse in stepping off the ferry, the samurai's graceful movements drawing a hint of envy from the back of Lyse's mind. 

If only she could be so graceful...More like her sister. 

"You're doing it again," Castor's comment drew her gaze to his narrowed eyes. 

"What?" 

"Comparing yourself to Yda," he replied, reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. "You aren't your sister, Lyse, remember that." 

Her cheeks burned, and she fought the urge to look down at her feet. "I...I know that! I just can't help it..." 

His gentle smile sent warmth through her veins, and her heart fluttered within her chest. 

"Over here! Castor!" Another deep voice bellowed, and Lyse looked over to see a Roegadyn clad in a heavy red cuirass waving black-armored hands, a massive bloodstained axe on his back. 

"Gorge! Good to see you!" Castor strode over to the beaming Warrior, and both men tightly seized the other's arm near the elbow. "You've gotten stronger, my friend!" 

"As have you!" Gorge chuckled, metal clanking and rattling as the men released one another. "And I have you to thank for helping me find my resolve again!" 

"You do not give yourself nearly enough credit, my friend. Now, what is this challenge that Broken Mountain had to drag me here for?" 

Gorge grinned shamelessly, pumping his fists before his chest with great enthusiasm. "Come on, then! Let's show these challengers the strength of the Warrior!" 

Castor nodded, his body shimmering with aetherial light. The sigil of the Warrior: the double-sided axe, burned brightly before the cocoon burst, revealing Castor in a heavy metal cuirass with fur and leather straps. An axe even bigger than Deathbringer was strapped to his back, chains rattling all over him as he shifted and shook his head.

"Gods, that was disorienting," he muttered, his horned helmet fading in a burst of light to reveal his face. "But...this feels good." 

His body radiated pure strength, and Lyse could almost feel the raging heart pounding within his broad chest. 

"Right, then!" Gorge and Broken Mountain turned in unison, gesturing down the docks to where a square platform floated upon the surface of the sea. 

A plethora of marauders were awaiting them, their masked helms following Castor's every move as he and the brothers made their way down to the platform. Lyse followed, as did the other two, pausing to lean against the railing surrounding the arena as the three Warriors (two and healer?) stopped inside. 

One of the challengers was tiny compared to their fellows, and Lyse noted with surprise that a dark-scaled tail was swishing behind the lithe form. 

"Another Au Ra?" She wondered, and metal shrieked in a deathly chorus as axes were drawn en masse. 

"Warriors! Show me your strength!" The largest of the marauders challenged, his blue armor somehow familiar to Lyse. 

Castor and Gorge heaved their own great axes into their hands, though Lyse immediately spotted Castor tensing as his wounds seared his flesh. 

The marauders charged as one, metal-clad feet pounding against the deck boards and great voices bellowing wordless cries. Gorge and Castor stomped forward to meet their adversaries, and Lyse clenched her hands as concern rippled through her mind. 

Gorge engaged three of the marauders at once, each powerful swing of his axe bashing aside their strokes with ease. Castor met the leader and the others, his own unrivaled strength driving his assailants back with brutal swings. 

As the Warriors fought, a swirling aura of aether shimmered to life and began to circle them, the power radiating from each of them shaking the very air. 

"Ha!" Curious Gorge roared as he crouched, gathering his strength, then pirouetted on the spot, his axe flaring with bright blades comprised of pure aether in a cyclone of steel and the force of the attack lifting him a few feet into the air before landing back upon the deck. 

His attackers went flying, slamming into the arena deck with loud crashes and lying still, groaning. 

Castor, not to be outdone, twisted his entire body in the middle of a swing of his own, dragging his massive axe against the deck and gouging the wood. The aura around him rippled and contorted, and saw blades of pure energy spiraled out from his swing, shrieking as they gouged the decks and slammed into his many foes. 

Each marauder crashed to the ground or were thrown by the pure violence of Castor's strike, and Lyse had to fight the urge to dash into the arena as Castor, himself, stumbled and hunched over. 

"Gods...that was a little too much," he rasped over the groans and pained shouts, his head rising in time to see the Au Ra marauder rising from the boards, her helmet falling. 

"Oh, no," Broken Mountain blanched, and Lyse found herself sharing his sentiments.

The fetching Au Ra's doll-like face was, like Castor's, lined with dark scales and tipped by draconic horns, snow-while hair falling free from the confines of her helmet as glowing red eyes focused upon Castor. The marauder slammed a foot into the deck, shaking it, and a bestial roar escaped her lips as she heaved her axe into the air. 

"Dorgono! Damn it!" The blue marauder had jumped to his feet, Broken Mountain unhooking his tome and readying it as the Au Ra honed in on the Roegadyns. 

The woman moved with blinding speed, her axe sending the marauder flying with a single swing. Gorge was staring at her with an enamored expression that Lyse had seen only on the most lovestruck, not even noticing when Dorgono honed in on him and charged. 

In the space of a heartbeat, the woman sent Gorge flying after the challenger, her bestial roars shaking the arena. Alarmed shouts filled the Den, and the pounding of many sets of feet announced the arrival of dozens of heavily armed soldiers. 

"Stay back!" Broken Mountain was shouting. "She's lost to her inner beast! Come no closer!" 

Castor, on the other hand, was warily eyeing the woman, his own axe scraping against the wood as he began to circle her. The noise caught Dorgono's attention, her glowing eyes following his every move. 

"By the kami, how can he be so calm?" Makoto whispered, and Dorgono's head swiveled towards her in the near-deafening silence. 

Castor took advantage of the Au Ra's shift of attention and charged her, lowering his shoulder and plowing into Dorgono with a metallic shriek. The woman skidded backwards, plunging her axe into the deck to halt herself before pouncing, savage snarls escaping her lips. Brutal swings rained down upon Castor, cracking the deck and shattering wood with each clash, but the Warrior of Twilight held his ground. 

Even as the woman's wrath coalesced around her in shimmering aetherial blades, gouging wood and ripping holes into the docks, Castor remained unfazed. Broken Mountain was doing what he could to keep Dorgono's frenzied attacks from reaching the crowd and the injured marauders, flinging spells left and right to blast through the Au Ra's raging aether. 

Castor ducked under a particularly vicious swing and his arm jabbed out with blinding speed, his fingers closing around Dorgono's throat in a vice that none could hope to escape. The Au Ra gasped and choked, still snarling even as her breath was cut off, dropping her axe to instinctively claw at the armored fingers now lifting her from the ground. 

The crowd heaved a sigh of relief almost as one, a great tension fading from the onlookers as Dorgono's movements slowed until she went slack in Castor's grip. He released her, dropping her form to the deck with a heavy thud, then kicked her axe far to the side as Dorgono began coughing and wheezing. 

The lithe Au Ra curled up on the deck, retching and heaving as she tried to force air down her partially crushed throat. 

Aside from the woman's dry heaving and the lapping of waves and the creaking of wood, there were hardly any other sounds as Castor loomed over the woman, gazing down upon her with a stony expression. 

"Sorry about that," he finally spoke, shattering the stiff silence. "But you were bound to hurt someone and yourself, carrying on like that." 

Broken Mountain approached warily, his eyes never leaving the petite Au Ra. "Castor, do you know what this means?" 

"I do: we cannot just let her run amok with such a lack of control over her inner beast," Castor nodded. "We'll have to train her, will we not?" 

"You can...teach me to control this?" The woman rasped, her voice a scarce whisper escaping her nearly crushed throat. "To...defy Karash?" 

"I don't know who this Karash deity is, but yes. We can teach you to control your inner beast before something like this happens again," Castor crouched, and the woman lifted her head from the decks to gaze at him. "It won't be easy, I warn you, but the power you will gain will be unmatched by almost anything." 

Dorgono slowly pushed herself to sit up, her gaze never leaving Castor. "Please...teach me. I beg of you. Your strength...you can help me resist the will of Karash. Please." 

Castor offered her a hand, which she took as relief bloomed across her face. 

"I will, but we won't have much time," Castor pulled Dorgono up to her feet, his fingers pulsing with emerald magic that immediately honed in on the woman's neck. 

"I'll learn as quickly as I can!" Dorgono promised, her enthusiasm drawing a smile from Lyse. "I won't let you down, I swear it!" 

Castor's lips curved into a smile of his own, and he kept Dorgono upright as her body recovered from near-asphyxiation. "You're bright and very strong, Dorgono, so I have no doubt that you will succeed." 

The petite Au Ra beamed at him, then stooped to recover her axe before slinging it back into its harness. Castor released her, and Dorgono swayed before catching her balance. 

"Right, let's go get Gorge and the guildmaster, eh?" Castor looked in the direction the two Roegadyns had been sent in. "I get the feeling they're not going to be too happy." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently began going through the Warrior questline and really like Dorgono, so it makes sense that she'd go with the Scions on their trip to Kugane, no? I mean, she has to go back to the Steppe, anyway, right?


	9. Looming Storm

"That was the most unique display of martial prowess I've ever seen," Makoto commented as Castor and Dorgono finally managed to smooth things over with the workers attempting to repair the damage done to the Den. "And the most impressive." 

"Thank you, Lady Makoto," Castor nodded, rubbing his eyes until he glanced down at his new apprentice. 

Dorgono's eyes were sharp and keen, gazing up at him with no small amount of respect and admiration shining within those irises. Respect that she held only for him, if the harsh tongue lashing she'd given Gorge had been any indication. 

The woman respected strength, which Castor had in abundance, and he suspected she was also embarrassed by how easily Castor had contained her out-of-control Inner Beast. To be honest, cutting off one's airflow was a trick he'd learned with Broken Mountain, having to use said technique to subdue the Roegadyn when he was still under his own Inner Beast's hold. 

Granted, he'd strangled the man purely by accident, pinning Broken Mountain by the throat with his axe until the man suddenly came to his senses. 

"I knew you Warriors could form blades with your aether, but I wasn't expecting that," Lyse spoke up. "That was incredible!" 

Castor grinned at her, his katana rattling against his hip as his duster rustled in the breeze. "Thanks. Granted, the wounds I'd sustained from Nidhogg were absolute murder during the fight..."

Said wounds ached as they were mentioned, pulsing with hot waves of agony. 

"Wounds, Castor?" Dorgono asked softly, her eyebrow raised. 

Even Makoto was gazing at him with no small curiosity in her eyes. 

Castor shrugged. "Aye: I have injuries from a dragon's soul on my torso." 

Dorgono's eyes grew even wider. "A dragon? Might I see?" 

"If you want," Castor willed his duster into his storage, light flaring as the armor faded to reveal the map of scars etched into his flesh, namely the weeping welts left by Nidhogg's Eyes. 

"By the kami," Makoto whispered, her gaze filled with horror as her eyes roamed over his ridged flesh.

Dorgono, on the other hand, looked absolutely ecstatic as she pumped her fists. "By the gods, that's incredible! To think that you so easily overpowered all of us while bearing such injuries! You're certainly the perfect mentor for me!" 

"Your enthusiasm is impressive," Castor commented as he replaced his armor, the pain of the Eyes scything his nerves. "So, Lady Makoto, what vessel did you use to get here?" 

The Bulwark was always nice, especially in the warm afternoon, but Castor could feel the wary eyes of the other patrons upon him. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to show off his scars in a place where people's appetites could be ruined. 

He caught a woman seated by two children glaring at him. "What?" 

She looked away.

Dorgono tore into the meat in front of her, devouring her order in a few bites. "Mmmm, so good!"

"There was a...trading vessel that agreed to bring me here for  a price, but only because they were importing spices to this city," Makoto explained after a moment. 

"Smugglers, then?" Castor guessed. "So, if they're heading back to Kugane for spices, do you think they might allow us passage?" 

"Depends on how much you'd be willing to pay them," Makoto shrugged. 

Castor chuckled. "Well, my finances are certainly capable of handling some smugglers." 

Makoto flinched. "I...I do not wish to impose upon you any further, Sir Castor." 

"You are hardly an imposition upon me, Lady Makoto. We must away to Kugane, anyhow, so traveling with you would be a boon," Castor shook his head. "What was the name of the ship that carried you?" 

The woman's expression darkened. "The  _Misery_. The crew were tolerant of my presence and not wholly unkind, but I spent the entire voyage on edge, wondering of one of the men would attempt to place their hands upon me." 

"That is fortunate," Castor nodded slowly, then took notice of the empty spot at the woman's side. "Where did Momozigo go?" 

Lyse and Dorgono followed suit, looking around at the rest of the Bulwark for the showman but coming up empty. 

"I don't know," Makoto frowned. 

The last time the man vanished, he had been kidnapped by a corrupt nobleman who'd been trying to prevent the truth of the murder of two lovers from escaping. The worm had paid with his life, safe to say, but Momozigo had barely escaped with his. 

"Are you all finished eating?" Castor surveyed his female companions, noting that he was now the only male present. 

Lyse stuffed what was left of a pickle into her mouth before nodding enthusiastically, her cheeks puffed out as she struggled to chew. Dorgono and Makoto merely rose, their gazes steely as they made their way around the table. 

Castor strode over to one of the catering staff, who stiffened considerably at his approach and tried to conceal her excitement. "Pardon me, but did you happen to see our Lalafell companion heading anywhere?" 

The girl's head nodded almost immediately, her wide eyes darting to the side. "It looked like he was 'eading to the docks, sir!" 

"You have my thanks," he nodded to the girl before striding over one of the many bridges connecting the spires of Limsa Lominsa. 

The scent of the sea was impossible to escape: the salty air permeated everything, as did the smell of oil, tar, and wood. It made his nose itch and filled him with the unreasonable desire to smash everything in sight. 

Needless to say: he didn't spend too much time in Limsa Lominsa unless he absolutely had to. 

Now, unfortunately, he absolutely had to. 

"Perhaps I should contact the Scions, let them know what we're going to have to do," he mused, turning back to Lyse. "Hey, Lyse?" 

With difficulty, the woman finally managed to swallow what was left of her pickle before letting out a hefty sigh. "Y-yeah?" 

"Could you contact the Scions? Let them know that we have potentially uncovered a lead on transport to the East?" Castor craned his neck up at the blue skies as gulls cried overhead, casting shadows upon the city. "Tataru may be especially useful." 

"Um, sure!" Lyse scrabbled for her linkpearl and tapped it, Castor's keen ears picking up the warbling of aether. 

"Lyse?" Minfilia's voice came from the pearl. "Where are you?" 

"I'm in Limsa with Castor and two others, and, um, you remember how we were talking about how we'd have to go to Doma to work on liberating it?" 

"Yes, I'm aware of our efforts in securing passage to the East, why?" 

"We think we may have found someone to take us across in Limsa Lominsa. Castor suggested we bring Tataru over to talk to them." 

Minfilia was silent, perhaps contemplating, before at last answering: "Very well, we'll send her over as soon as she's ready." 

"Alright! Thanks, Minfilia!" Lyse cut the connection, pumping her fists excitedly. "Now we just wait!" 

"Sounds boring," Dorgono snorted, and Castor could sense her impatience feeding her inner beast. 

"I am of a mind to agree," he rumbled, crossing his arms before his chest. "It may take a while for Tataru to arrive, and I have little desire to stand around and wait." 

Dorgono bounced on her feet before pulling her axe out of its harness. "Fight me, Castor! Let us train!" 

Castor raised an eyebrow, taking a moment to gaze at the crowd of onlookers who had begun staring at Dorgono in surprise. A few Yellowjackets were now approaching, hands on their own axes as their steely eyes fixed upon the lithe Au Ra. 

"I will gladly spar with you, but not in the middle of the city, Dorgono," Castor made his voice louder, noting how the civilians and Yellowjackets relaxed almost instantly. "Put your axe down, and let us find a more suitable venue for this, hmm?" 

Dorgono, at last, became aware of the onlookers, of the approaching Yellowjackets, and she holstered her axe. "Sounds good to me. Where do you have in mind?" 

His mind blanked, and Castor momentarily considered taking her to one of the nearest castra in order to have her spar with his professional soldiers when familiar footsteps reached his ears.

"Ah, Castor! Dorgono! I was hoping to catch the two of you before you went too far!" Broken Mountain was approaching, his face grim and determined. 

"Broken Mountain, what do you need?" Castor prayed he had something useful. 

The Roegadyn exhaled heavily. "The Maelstrom has asked for the assistance of myself and the warriors in training in pushing back a Mamool Ja assault on Camp Overlook. I think it would be an excellent training exercise for Dorgono, so if you two would be willing to come..." 

Castor looked to the Au Ra at his side. "What say you?" 

Dorgono grinned wickedly. "If it means an opportunity to learn from a master, then let's go!" 

"Right! I'll gather the other warriors and we'll meet you at Overlook," Broken Mountain nodded before dashing off. 

"Have you attuned to the aetheryte near Camp Overlook?" Castor asked Dorgono and Lyse, making certain both women knew he was addressing them. 

Lyse nodded.

Dorgono shook her head. 

Makoto looked confused.

"Right, then. Makoto, I'm guessing you’d like to tag along?" 

To his surprise, the woman shook her head. "Nay, my friend. I believe I shall remain and search for Sir Momozigo while we await the arrival of this...Tataru." 

Castor frowned. "Are you certain? Eorzea is still quite unknown to you..." 

"I will manage, my friend," Makoto smiled warmly. "If I search the docks, perhaps I'll come across Sir Momozigo." 

"Very well...but do stay safe, okay?" 

Makoto nodded. "I shall do so. Good luck!"

"Good luck to you, too," Castor reached out and took ahold of Dorgono's muscular bicep, ignoring her startled squeak. "This might make you feel a bit dizzy." 

The air bent and rippled, and he drew the two of them into the Lifestream. 

Lyse stumbled as everything snapped back into brilliant clarity, quickly catching her balance before Castor had to catch her again. She'd been in this camp once before, with him, of course, exploring the floating ruins that graced the canyon behind Overlook. She could see the heat radiating off of O'Ghomoro in the distance, kobold machinery dotting the craggy landscape. 

The air, as always, was hot and filled with humidity that bathed her face with moisture. With the kobold works and the jungle nearby, it was little wonder that the place would be so arid.

To her surprise, the grounds weren't swarming with kobolds, as they had been last time. If anything, the kobold mineworks looked...abandoned. 

"Hmm, it appears Severus was telling the truth when he informed me of what was left of the Kobolds sealing themselves in the mines," Castor's voice rumbled nearby, drawing Lyse's attention to him and the hunched over Dorgono. 

"W-what was that?" The smaller warrior moaned, clutching her stomach and slowly shaking her head. 

Castor placed a hand upon her shoulder, magic shimmering gently, and Dorgono straightened. 

"Sorry about the sudden teleportation, but I did warn you," he said with no small amount of sympathy, keeping ahold of Dorgono as the color returned to her face. 

Lyse fought down an absurd spark of...what was it? This...ache? 

"Broken Mountain and the others should arrive shortly, but we should use this time to-" 

"Ah, legatus!" A mechanized voice made Lyse instinctively reach for her weapons, ready to unleash hell on the approaching centurion before the sun and moon sigil on his shoulder made her pause. 

"Centurion," Castor nodded as the man saluted. "How fare your troops of late?" 

"We've been preparing to return to Castrum Occidens, truth be told, my lord," the soldier replied, his helm-distorted voice drawing knives through Lyse's ears. "What was left of the beastmen have retreated into their mines, and I doubt the savages will muster up the courage to defy us again after that last debacle." 

Debacle? Was that why O'Ghomoro looked like a ghost town?

"I see. Well done, Centurion: your troops have performed admirably," Castor straightened, returning to the formal, hardened soldier that Lyse had seen so much of lately. "You have earned a well-deserved rest." 

The centurion saluted sharply. "Thank you, my lord! We will not let you down!" 

With that, the centurion dashed off, returning to the airship that Lyse could see idling by the cliffs, packed with scarlet legionaries. 

A burst of aether shook the air and Lyse glanced back to see Broken Mountain bursting into existence behind the trio, three black-clad Roegadyns at his back. 

"Ah, of course you've already beaten us here," Broken Mountain chuckled, not appearing at all surprised. "If you'll come with us, the Mamool Ja are said to be near the Floating City, preparing for an assault." 

Castor nodded. "Very well. Lead the way." 

Broken Mountain and the three warriors-in-training marched towards the hedgehogs of sharpened stakes that formed the perimeter of the camp, Lyse and Dorgono trailing after Castor as he followed. 

"What are these Mamool Ja like, Castor?" Dorgono hurried up to the towering Au Ra's side, gazing up at him as he turned his head to her. "Are they fierce opponents?" 

"They are sturdier than most, given that a good amount of their body is covered in scales," Castor replied. "They are fierce fighters, and skilled in blade and magic both. However, they do have a weak spot on the very nape of their necks and throats, where some scales part to reveal the soft flesh beneath." 

Dorgono pumped her fist. "My axe should have no problem with that!" 

"I won't slow you down, either," Lyse found herself interjecting, and Castor grinned at her. 

"Oh, I know you won't. I'm merely wondering how I can best engage our mutual foes while leaving some for both yourself and Dorgono," he chuckled as the party wound their way up a steep hill pitted with stone ruins. 

"They should be back here," Broken Mountain announced, and Lyse once again found herself amazed by the sheer majesty of Nymia's ancient floating city, ruins hovering high above the craggy canyon formed by their ascension. Some of the more vicious feline predators approached out of curiosity, but the warriors drove them off with ease. 

After a few moments, the group arrived at a fork in the jungle, leading in deeper to the foliage. 

"We'll handle the main vanguard," Broken Mountain unslung his tome as his warriors-in-training unslung their axes. "If you could rout their flankers and scouting parties, that would be appreciated." 

Dorgono huffed. "You think we cannot handle a large force of lizard-men? Come, Castor! Let us crush them!"

Castor didn't even get the chance to reply before his apprentice sprinted full speed into the jungle, vanishing amongst the undergrowth. 

He sighed. "Gods damn it...I'll keep her from going crazy."

The Warrior of Twilight pursued his prey with impossibly long strides, vanishing after Dorgono. 

"H-hey! Wait up!" Lyse gathered herself and took off after her friend, ignoring Broken Mountain's sigh as she tore into the jungle path.

Luckily, the path was wide enough to spare her a beating from the branches and undergrowth, but Lyse's heart skipped a beat as her feet slid on the mud right next to a rocky cliff dropping off into oblivion.

For a moment, her body was weightless, careening towards nothingness, and Lyse dimly had a moment to curse her clumsiness before cold terror and realization filled her head. 

"Lyse!" A powerful hand reached out and seized her arm, muscles being drawn taut as her fall was halted almost instantly. 

Her body jerked painfully at the sudden shift in momentum, and she couldn't stop a grunt from escaping her lips as she was snapped into stillness. Her heart was pounding, blood roaring within her head as she gazed upwards to see he familiar mien of her dear Castor over her, splayed out on the rocky overhang as his metal-covered hand held Lyse suspended over the void. 

"Hold on!" He grunted, and Lyse quickly reached up with her other hand and clawed at the cliff face, seeking purchase anywhere she could get it. 

It wasn't needed: with a display of might few could muster, Castor heaved Lyse back onto the rocky ground with a single hand, cold stone and mud greeting her as she was set down. 

"You alright?" Castor's voice was ambrosia to her ears and Lyse couldn't stop herself from flinging her muddy arms around his neck and pulling him towards her. 

"I-I'm fine," she forced the words from her lips, struggling to keep her sentence coherent as her heart hammered within her chest, icy terror only now beginning to fade. "Thank you...I'm sorry you had to save me again..."

Castor's body vibrated with his deep chuckle, and his powerful hands came to rest upon her back, enclosing her within his steel grasp. "It's fine, Lyse: I actually did the same thing you did. Just managed to pull myself back up onto the rocks when you came crashing down after me."

"What about Dorgono?" Lyse didn't want to leave, but she had a duty to fulfil, as did he. 

"I saw her dashing into the woods before I fell, so she didn't meet the fate we nearly did," Castor answered, and his arms retracted. "Come on, we haven't got much time before Dorgono finds the Mamool Ja." 

He rose, his hands gentle as they tugged Lyse up to her feet. Her heart had settled enough to stabilize and Lyse inhaled deeply to steady her nerves as she gazed at Castor's wry smile. 

"Well, we must away, no?" He chuckled. "Don't want Dorgono to have all the fun." 

Lyse grinned back at him, her heart fluttering as strength returned to her. "Let's go!" 

The duo dashed off into the jungle, and the sounds of steel on steel soon filled the air around them, along with rather bestial screaming. Lyse couldn't tell if the source of the animalistic roars was Dorgono or the Mamool Ja. 

"That doesn't sound good," Castor remarked, and Lyse remembered that he had far keener hearing than she, so he could likely recognize the noises. 

They redoubled their efforts, pushing their ample muscles to the max as the forest blurred until the duo burst into a wide clearing filled with death. 

Dorgono was standing, covered in blood in gore, alone in the middle of a carpet of mangled Mamool Ja corpses, broken steel and wands littering the earth as it was watered with scarlet offal. 

"Dorgono?" Castor reached for his axe, the palpable unease in his voice making Lyse slip her caesti into place. 

Dorgono turned, still dripping fluids, and eyes like embers focused upon the newcomers. 

"Damn it...I was too slow," Castor made no further move to unsling his axe as the lithe woman screamed and charged, the heavy aura permeating her presence shaking the air with each footfall.

Lyse reached for her weapons, but Castor waved her off. 

"She's my trainee, so she's my responsibility," he grunted, calmly striding forward to meet the raging Dorgono. 

The white-haired warrior screamed, bestial voice rattling Lyse's ears as the lithe Au Ra lunged at her towering mentor, lost to her Inner Beast. 

Castor barely even shifted position to evade Dorgono's brutish swing, his arm snapping upwards and bashing the weapon from her grasp as it sailed past him. Dorgono stumbled back from the force of the blow, and then a massive metal-clad hand clamped down atop her head. 

The woman snarled, baring her sharp canines, and Lyse had to fight back a giggle as Dorgono feebly flailed her arms at Castor in a desperate attempt to break his hold. High-pitched snarls and growls continued escaping Dorgono as she struggled valiantly against her mentor, although it was plain that she was far outmatched by his sheer strength alone.

"Are you done?" Castor asked after several moments of holding her in place, the bored expression on his face only adding to the absurdity of the situation. 

Dorgono's flailing finally guttered out, the woman's scarlet eyes glaring bloody murder at her mentor as she gulped down lungfuls of air. Then her eyes returned to normal, and the exhausted woman sank to her knees, a bewildered expression replacing the primal rage. 

"W-what happened?" She murmured, chest heaving. "Why am I so tired?" 

Castor gestured at the bloodbath around them, the jungle heat already eliciting a foul stench from the corpses and offal. "You ran ahead and butchered everything while Lyse and I were pulling ourselves out of an abyss. Then you attacked me."

"You...fell down that cliff?" Dorgono shook her head slowly, as if dispelling a violent haze. "I remember that cliff...nearly lost my footing on the mud."

"Well, we actually did lose our footing," Lyse interjected. "I...probably would have fallen to my death if Castor hadn't caught me." 

"Ah, you don't give yourself enough credit, Lyse," Castor chided, his heavy hand patting the top of her head. "I fell in, too, after all." 

It was a small consolation, perhaps...but she would never be equal to him. Granted, nobody would, except maybe Zenos. 

Still, it was just another painful reminder of how useless she was compared to Castor.

"Stop it, Lyse," Castor pat her head as if she were some animal, yet she found she didn't mind having his strong fingers amongst her hair. "You're incredible just the way you are." 

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and Lyse glanced up at her friend's gleaming golden irises to see him grinning down at her. 

"If you say so..." Her lips tugged upwards of their own volition. 

Castor nodded and then knelt by a rather confused Dorgono, his hands hauling her up to her feet and holding her steady as she wobbled.

The smell was almost unbearable, now, and Lyse could already hear the buzzing of corpse flies as they congregated in the thick growth, awaiting their chance to descend upon the carnage. 

"Dorgono, you need to remember that I'm trying to teach you to control your inner beast," Castor was speaking to Dorgono again. "I can't do that if you're running ahead of me, gutting everything in your way with no control." 

The woman was hanging her head in shame, white hair hanging over her eyes and obscuring whatever expression she was wearing. 

"Forgive me, Castor...I know I should have waited for you, but..."

Castor gently placed his hands upon her shoulders, his expression as soothing as his voice. "Peace, Dorgono. I understand that you wanted to prove yourself, but you do not have to. I have tasted your strength, firsthand, and you have nothing to prove."

Those words sank into Lyse's muscles, and all the tension melted from her body. Dorgono reacted similarly: slouching into Castor's arms and releasing a heavy exhale. 

"Thank the gods," she whispered. "I'd thought you were expecting me to be as strong as you, or nearly so, before you would even begin to teach me anything."

Castor made a tsk-ing noise as he held the woman in his arms. "Hardly: that's a rather unrealistic expectation, given that I'm far stronger than any regular soldier could ever be." 

"Heh, if anyone else said that, I'd dismiss it as empty words," Dorgono chuckled softly. "But you...It is the truth." 

"Empty words serve no purpose," Castor nodded, releasing her but keeping a hand on her shoulder as she swayed. "Can you stand on your own?" 

Dorgono nodded fiercely, determination burning in her eyes as she backed out of his reach. She stumbled for a moment before steadying herself, and Castor suddenly spun towards Lyse, reaching for his axe as twigs cracked behind her. 

She pivoted as well, hands raising her caesti, only to pause at the sight of the red and black armored Roegadyn emerging from the forest. 

"Gorge?" Castor's rumbling voice reached past her. "What are you doing so far from Costa del Sol?" 

Curious Gorge flinched and rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "Uh, er, I was, uh, taking a walk to clear my head!"

"Brother?" Broken Mountain and the rest of the warriors tromped down from the jungle, axes stained with Mamool Ja blood. "You never take walks this far." 

"What do you want, worm?" Dorgono growled, drawing a strange look from Curious Gorge. "I hope you do not plan on interrupting my training with Castor." 

"Er, of course not!" Gorge spluttered, failing to say anything other than that as he stammered and tried to form a coherent sentence. 

"Enough of this, then," Castor grunted. "We must return to Limsa if we are to learn of the fate of our ferry." 

"Castor, are you alright?" Broken Mountain spoke up. "You and the other two?" 

Castor and Lyse nodded simultaneously, but Lyse caught a glimpse of Dorgono swaying as she mirrored the gesture. Clearly the woman was exhausted. 

"We're alright, but I'm more concerned with Dorgono, since she ran ahead and slaughtered these poor bastards while Lyse and I were clawing our way out of that drop-off higher on the path," Castor grunted. 

Broken Mountain winced. "Ah, that cliff? I'm glad you two are alright." 

"As am I," Castor glanced at Dorgono. "Now, if this is the only Mamool Ja threat that is needing attention at the moment, I would return to Limsa to allow Dorgono some rest and to see how our efforts in obtaining a ship are faring." 

"I do not need rest!" Dorgono protested with a bright cry, although the woman seemed ready to collapse even as she spoke. 

"Even I need rest, Dorgono," Castor retorted, his expression steely as he gazed upon her. "And you can barely keep yourself upright." 

Dorgono hesitated, clearly still thinking of resisting, only for Castor to sigh and take ahold of her arm before both vanished in a burst of aether. 

Lyse sighed. "I'll keep an eye on them."

She pulled herself into the Lifestream after the two Au Ra. 


	10. Voyage's Beginning

"You work quickly, I'll give you that," Castor rumbled as he met the gaze of the pirate captain who was grinning wickedly at Tataru.

Momozigo shook his head slowly, pale and apparently shell-shocked. "Castor...save me...she's terrifying." 

Tataru's own pleased smirk, which was admittedly terrifying, only further enhanced her gleaming eyes as she met the pirate's gaze. "Our bargain will stand, will it not, Captain Carvallain?" 

"Oh, yes! The coin you've presented will more than suffice, especially since we were on our way to trade in Kugane anyway," the tall, fair-skinned captain chuckled, although Castor could see the faint vestiges of fear glimmering in his eyes. "However, I must ask that you grant us a few hours to finish prepping the ship for our voyage!"

His heart sank and rose all at the same time. "We're leaving this day?"

Carvallain nodded. "Yes, well, we were going to depart today, so you either come with us or get left behind!" 

"Don't worry: I've already told the twins and the others of this!" Tataru announced.

"And I am prepared to leave whenever we're ready," Makoto chimed in, seated on a nearby bench. 

Castor nodded slowly, mentally checking his inventory to ensure that all of his monetary and sustenance needs were covered. They were: he didn't trust any Ul'dahn bank to hold his rather...excessive funds. 

"In that case, all of my belongings are on hand, so I am ready to leave whenever," Castor shrugged. 

"This is all I have," Dorgono gestured at the small satchel hanging from her hip, more rested than a few hours before. "So I am ready." 

"I have to go and pack my things!" Tataru gasped, suddenly looking horrified. "I'll be back shortly!" 

The woman vanished in a burst of aether, drawing a sigh from Lyse.

"She's so excitable," the Ala Mhigan murmured. 

"Indeed she is," Captain Carvallain concurred, a haunted expression momentarily crossing his features. "Now, if you'll excuse me...We'll find a way to contact you when we're ready to sail." 

"Very well," Castor nodded as the man strode off. 

"It appears we have more time to kill, so what shall we do?" Lyse wondered, right as Broken Mountain stomped down the decks towards them, the grim look tightening his features drawing an enraged knot in Castor's gut. 

"More Mamool Ja?" 

The man nodded. "Near Costa, this time: Geguruju's concerned they'll launch an assault on his facilities." 

Castor turned his gaze to his allies. "Well, you up for an excursion to the beach?" 

"Castor Entialpoh," Zenos exhaled as the name ghosted from his lips, the memory of that fierce demon sending shivers up his spine. 

"Y-yes, my lord! He's the current legatus of the Fourteenth's legion of traitors!" The scout trembling before him stammered, but Zenos ignored the weakling. 

He turned, closing his eyes, and once again the picture of that beautiful slaughter came into his mind, as sharp and vivid as if he were reliving it once more. 

Fire crackled and hissed, spitting embers and thick smoke into the skies as men fought and died all around him, painting the ground with sprays of scarlet. The demon was standing before Zenos, that massive sword in hand, the air around him rippling with scarlet hatred. Golden eyes blazed with rage, piercing Zenos' very soul, and an ephemeral blade raked across his throat. 

Every step of their deadly dance was forever etched into his heart: each shrieking of steel as blades met; each violent impact that shook Zenos to his very core as he utilized every ounce of his inhuman strength just to hold his ground. 

Castor Entialpoh...the champion of the savages...their Warrior of Light...he was not what his Radiance described. No...violence filled the air around that monster, permeating his very soul, and Zenos could see why his father had withheld the information of the man's transformation from the rest of the Empire. 

The Warrior of Light, the eikon-slayer, was already renowned across the Empire's provinces as a soldier of unparalleled strength and skill, the merest whispers of his name enough to make even the most battle-hardened of the Empire's soldiers shudder with fear. All dreaded the day they might have to face him, and entire towns were fortified out of terror of having to endure an assault by the Warrior of Light. 

He was the Empire's greatest nightmare, before, and this new form would only yield further terror in those weaklings.  

His Radiance feared him, too. 

Varus zos Galvus, second Emperor of the Garlean Empire, was afraid of the Warrior of Light. 

With good reason. 

Zenos gazed down at the black marks scoring his armor, marks that he'd refused to have removed even at the urging of many of his underlings and advisors. 

Castor Entialpoh...such strength...such hatred filled the demon. If the stories were true, then the famed eikon-slayer had killed more men than most armies would, as the Warrior of Light and as a slave of the Fourteenth under van Baelsar. He was a pure-blooded killer, existing only to destroy anything that stood in his way. 

He was like Zenos. 

Zenos opened his eyes, but that golden glow lingered in his vision, marring his sight with the pulsing hatred that seethed within his fellow demon's gaze. 

Fate had intervened, perhaps, during their fight, sapping Castor of his strength and driving the monster to his knees before Zenos. They were not destined to clash just yet, to savor the time between the seconds of battle, to tear at one another as two mighty beasts could. 

He was the prey that Zenos had longed for, for so long now, that much was certain. They were bound, now, and their paths would be washed with fresh blood. 

Zenos' lips curled into a smile as some faint feeling sparked within the confines of his chest, his eyes turning towards the evening skies over Ala Mhigo. 

"Castor Entialpoh..." That name once again escaped his lips, and Zenos' very heart shuddered. 

The Mamool Ja warrior screamed as Castor's blade split its torso cleanly in half, spilling scarlet gore that almost matched the hue of the sky above, currently painted brilliantly by the setting sun. The pieces crumpled lifelessly to the earth, and Castor glanced around to see that Lyse and Makoto had handily wiped out the remainder of the assault squad on their side of the gorge. 

"These warriors were strong, indeed," Makoto said, somber as she cleaned her blade upon the grass before slipping it gracefully into its scabbard. "Tis good that we ended their assault before it truly began." 

Castor wondered, briefly, how Dorgono was faring with Broken Mountain and Curious Gorge's group, only for a familiar bestial roar to fill the air.

"Gods damn it!" He growled, cursing himself for agreeing to let the woman out of his sight as he dashed into the jungle, towards the area Broken Mountain had taken his group. 

His armored boots trampled the undergrowth, branches smacking his face as his long legs devoured the earth betwixt him and his screaming apprentice. Castor burst from the foliage just in time to see Broken Mountain and his warriors crumpled upon the ground, surrounded by fallen Mamool Ja.

The Roegadyns were alive, Castor noted, merely injured. They'd survive. 

He pushed past them, following the screaming and the blood trail staining the earthen pathway until he found the source of the screams standing with her back to a badly injured Curious Gorge, her axe stained with the innards of the score of corpses littered by her feet. 

"Dorgono!" Castor called out, immediately regretting doing so when the woman turned and fixed her gaze upon Gorge, instead. 

He reached for his katana, having sheathed the blade to run, but paused as Dorgono clenched her eyes shut and took several steps away from Curious Gorge. Castor took the lapse in concentration to sprint forward, seizing Gorge's arm and hauling him back several feet. 

Dorgono's eyes opened at the movement, still pulsing scarlet as she attempted to move after her chosen prey. Castor interposed himself between them, silently cursing himself for allowing this to happen as he stared down at his apprentice. 

Dorgono hesitated, her gaze rising from Gorge to him, and again she took several steps back. 

"N-no!" Her voice croaked out, and she let go of her axe to clutch at her head. "I...I won't...yield!"

Dorgono loosed an agonized scream, her body trembling and heaving as she fought her Inner Beast for control, clutching her head all the while. Castor stepped closer and grabbed her wrists, halting her spasms to make her look at him. 

"You control it, not the other way around," he said firmly, gazing into the suffering mirrors of her eyes. "Find what gives you strength, what gives you purpose, and draw whatever feeling it conjures into your heart. Let it fill you, then push back against your Inner Beast." 

Dorgono nodded as much as she could, then closed her eyes tightly. Her trembling stilled after several moments of tense internal conflict, her expression softening as her body relaxed. 

Castor remained silent, not wishing to disturb her should she still be battling her Inner Beast. He released her wrists and began to lower his hands when her fingers closed around his own, keeping them hovering by her face. 

"Thank you, Castor," her eyes opened, gleaming with excitement. "You were right! I have defied Karash!"

Her lips twisted into an overjoyed smile, and Dorgono released him to step back several paces. 

Castor frowned. "That easily? Just earlier in the day, you were utterly lost to your Inner Beast, slaughtering everything in sight." 

Dorgono flushed with shame and embarrassment. "Well...to tell the truth...it was the prospect of attacking you again that made me halt, this time. I didn't want to disappoint you again..." Her gaze flitted to Gorge for a moment. "Well, I guess I didn't want to hurt the worm, either." 

"I see," Castor nodded slowly. 

Not true mastery, per say, just temporary control wrested by the desire to protect someone. It would be a good starting point, however. 

"It's an excellent starting point," he chose his words carefully, not wanting to upset her. "The desire to protect something or someone is usually a good leash to wrest control from your Inner Beast, but there is still a long road ahead." 

Dorgono nodded, determination burning within her eyes. "You'll help me, right? To learn to master this?" 

"I will," he swore. 

"With your strength and experience, I'll have mastery over Karash's power in no time!" Dorgono punched the air with perhaps too much enthusiasm, and Castor couldn't help but grin. 

"With that attitude, I wouldn't be surprised," he glanced back at Gorge as Makoto and Lyse stormed down the path he'd made, Broken Mountain and his injured company limping in behind the two women. 

"Sir Castor! Are you unharmed?" Makoto called over, likely taking the words right out of Lyse's open mouth. 

"I'm fine. The Mamool Ja have been dealt with, and Dorgono has taken the first step to overpowering her Inner Beast," Castor nodded, and his linkpearl hummed. "Yes?"

"Castor, the captain says everything's ready!" Tataru piped up. "You'd best get back here quickly!" 

"Acknowledged," he glanced at his curious companions. "Tataru says the ship is ready." 

"So, we are off to Kugane?" Makoto asked, excitement gleaming in her eyes. 

"Unless we miss the ship," Castor reminded her, turning to the other warriors. "We must away, but hopefully this will be the last of your issues with the Mamool Ja." 

"I hope so," Broken Mountain sighed. "But...good luck with Kugane and Doma." 

Yugiri awaited, and Castor's heart sang with the anticipation of being with her once again. The crystal around his neck felt warmer, and he briefly pondered what she was doing at the moment. 

He wished he could just teleport to her side, or even utilize the crystal to communicate, but they were too far apart. Much too far. It was only in times of desperation, such as when he was defeated by Zenos, that their souls could draw upon the other's, and Castor had little desire to repeat that particular experience. 

"I can teleport to Limsa, myself," Dorgono broke him from the reverie spawning from the warmth of his heart, then promptly vanished. 

"Let's go!" Lyse urged, she and Makoto following Dorgono's example and teleporting. 

Castor sighed and followed suit, allowing the Lifestream to draw him into its swirling currents. The void rippled and swirled, cruising and ebbing and flowing around him until everything snapped back into clarity. 

"Ah! Castor! Over here!" He was assailed by the pungent odor of the sea and of gutted fish almost immediately, and Castor saw Tataru waving at him from a nearby dock, where the  _Misery_  was bobbing upon the surface. 

He strode over, spotting Alphinaud and Alisaie already waiting for their arrival, both twins looking utterly bored. 

"Apologies for the wait," he rumbled, noting how his deep voice made several of the bustling crewmen cast alarmed looks in his direction. "Are we ready?" 

Captain Carvallain nodded. "We are! All that's left is to get aboard and weigh anchor."

At that moment, Urianger, of all people, sprinted down the docks towards them, gasping heavily as he gulped down air. 

"Ah, I was afraid I had tarried overlong," the Elezen wheezed after making a herculean effort to catch his breath. 

"Urianger? Come to see us off, have you?" Alisaie teased, only to pause as the man pulled an elegant rapier forged from light pink crystals from the folds of his robes.

"Twas not mine only intent, my lady," the man intoned. "I believe this blade shall serve thee better than the one comprised of thine own aether." 

Alisaie stammered as she took the blade, and Castor ignored the rest of her stunned words and Urianger's wishes for a safe journey until the man's footsteps approached him. 

"Legate, I have some words I wish to share with thee," Urianger murmured. "A dark prophecy that came to me in a vision: Look ye where the sun doth rise, see crimson embers, dark'ning skies; look ye where the sun doth fall, see azure lost amidst the squall." 

Alphinaud and Alisaie frowned, obviously intending to decipher the cryptic words, but Castor sighed.

"I will keep those words in mind, Urianger, but we must be on our way," he grunted, nodding cordially to the masked Scion before allowing Dorgono to impatiently drag him over the gangplank and onto the swaying decks. 

Carvallain ushered the twins aboard behind Lyse and Makoto, and Urianger stood, watching as the gangplank was raised and the party ushered up to the main deck. Castor admitted that he knew nothing of sailing as he watched the crew bustling about performing their duties, tar and oil mingling with the salty spray. 

This would be his first prolonged voyage at sea, and the knowledge that this voyage was taking him closer and closer to his beloved Yugiri made his heart sing further. Even now, he could feel her through their bond: faint and loving despite the great distance between them. 

Castor would stop at nothing to liberate Doma, to liberate Yugiri's home and free some part of this world from Garlemald's tyranny. 

"Wait for me, Yugiri," he murmured, his words being lost to the surrounding chaos. "I shall be by your side soon." 

"Weigh anchor! Let's get moving!" Carvallain barked, nodding to his guests as his helmsman saluted from his post. "Now, if you'll follow me, I'd show you to your cabins." 


	11. Sirensong Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I've had a rather hectic week that didn't quite offer me an opportunity to write as much as I would have liked.

"Breathe in, breathe out," Castor instructed over the churning waves, ignoring how the  _Misery_  bobbed upon the surface. 

Dorgono shot him an annoyed glare but obeyed, her chest expanding as she inhaled the salty air. It had been nearly two weeks since this damn voyage's start, and Castor was rapidly approaching the end of his patience. 

Aside from Lyse getting seasick once, the voyage had been dreadfully boring, and Castor had taken to drilling Dorgono for hours on end in order to keep the both of them from getting antsy and destroying something. 

The crew had learned the hard way to not get on the smaller Au Ra's nerves, but Castor had taken care of their injuries before any permanent animosity could form. It had been just a day-to-day bore, at least until the crew had finally caught Curious Gorge hiding belowdecks. 

Honestly, Castor was surprised it took them so long to find the hulking Warrior, but he'd been prepared to speak with the captain about the stowaway. Carvallain had accepted extra payment for Gorge, as well as witnessing Castor and Dorgono, both, using the Warrior as a dummy for training. 

"Uh, Castor? You're not going to use me as a training dummy again, are you?" Said training dummy was standing behind the duo, not-so-subtly staring at Dorgono with a faint love-struck expression. 

"Be silent, worm," the object of his affections snapped, shooting him an irate glare. "Or I might decide to use my real axe this time!" 

Castor ignored their bickering and delved into the darkness permeating his heart, feeling the Void that filled him with so much unfathomable rage. Perhaps there was some faint vestiges of Light remaining, but it was that of the Sun and Moon, rather than Hydaelyn. 

He didn't mind: Azim and Nhaama actually cared about him, about his suffering. Unlike the so-called 'Mother', the two eikons actually gave a damn about protecting the world rather than needlessly seeking conflict with the pathetic Ascians and their own damn god. 

"Castor? Might we spar again?" Dorgono broke his concentration, and Castor roused himself. 

Lyse and Makoto were standing further down the deck, sparring with wooden caesti and blade as they attempted to stay out of the crew's way, he noticed before turning his attention fully to Dorgono. 

"I don't see why-" the ship jolted violently, nearly causing him to bite his own tongue off. 

Crew and passenger alike yelped and cursed, bodies hitting the decks above and below, if the many thuds were any indication. The skies darkened unnaturally, a heavy fog drowning the bright afternoon into an eerie twilight. 

"What in the abyss?" Castor muttered as he rose, hauling Dorgono and Gorge to their feet. 

"Did we hit a reef?!" A crewman shouted, hands rushing to the bulwarks to gaze down into the murky waters. 

"Ain't a reef for malms, y'know this!" Another retorted. 

"There's somethin' in the water!" 

"What's going on?!" Alphinaud and Alisaie burst onto the decks, an annoyed Carvallain at their side. "Did we hit something?" 

As if in answer, the ship lurched again, gliding over the waves in a completely different direction despite the still air. 

"How are we moving?" Makoto wondered, her breath crystallizing into a fine mist as the temperature plummeted. "There's no wind." 

"And I take it your illegal ceruleum engines aren't working?" Alisaie asked drily, drawing a startled look from the captain.

"The engines you aren't supposed to know about? No, they aren't," he growled. "Blast it all, the Sirensong's gotten a nasty reputation as of late, but I was hoping our good fortune would last..." 

"Heads up!" A crewman screamed as something burst from the water, Castor's instincts already drawing his axe and plunging it into the gelatinous cephalopod that crawled over the rails, its several tentacles popping as it heaved itself up onto the vessel. 

The thing's body yielded to his wrath, splitting apart under finely sharpened steel before Castor kicked its ichor-spewing body back into the murky seas. 

"Captain, get your crew belowdecks," he ordered, reaching out with his senses and picking up more of the ghastly creatures congregating on their position below the surface. "Whatever's pulling us towards the island has a firm grip, so I imagine we'll have to let it." 

"Island? What island?" Alphinaud's face was as white as a ghost's, and the boy was struggling mightily to contain his trembling. 

More of the creatures leaped from the waters, tentacles slapping against wood with disgusting slurping and smacking that made Castor's skin crawl. 

"Ha!" Lyse roared as she plunged into the fray, her fists opening holes in gelid flesh with each powerful swing. 

"Nothing to it," Alisaie murmured as she unsheathed her rapier and odd catalyst before lobbing spells at the nearest beast. 

The thing crumpled, the foul stench permeating the ghastly creatures stabbing Castor's sensitive nostrils with spears of desecration. Makoto and Dorgono had also drawn their real weapons and had begun to tear into their assailants, sending severed tentacles flopping to the deck or the waters below. 

Castor reached for his axe, hesitating for just a moment as his normally subdued Inner Beast stirred within his Soul, a primal bloodlust surging into his senses. 

The Beast...the Darkness...they hungered for blood. For a brief moment, the bloodlust of the Beast surged supreme, unchained by the absence of Myste and his inner guilt. Castor shoved the thing back into its cage, baring his own teeth at the Beast as his unfathomable rage surged forth to replace it. 

The Voidsent that was pulling them forward...none of its kind would escape this bloodbath. 

"This is fun!" Lyse's giggle reached his ears, and Castor's lips curved into a smile on their own as he glimpsed the woman pounding beasts into the decks with a fury even as her face lit up with bright joy. 

"Agreed!" Dorgono called, hacking through invaders at Castor's side, her axe cleaving flesh left and right. 

"Land ahead!" A crewman screamed.

"Brace for impact!" 

"Oh,  _that_  island," Alphinaud murmured weakly, his face almost pure white. 

Castor reached into Garuda and Bismark's essences, drawing upon their control over the wind and preparing aether to form cushions for those abovedecks. 

"Wait, couldn't I have just used Leviathan's aether to pull us-" his self-beratement was cut off by the mighty crash of wood on stone. 

The vessel lurched violently, and Castor glimpsed the creature-like figurehead crumbling as it absorbed the brunt of the collision. Wood splintered and screamed as it grated against the island, Castor digging his feet into the deck to keep his balance while his allies were thrown onto the aetherial cushions he'd prepared with the wind. The wounds from the Eyes screamed, but Castor pulled the pain deep within, letting the agony fuel his rage.

"Okay, free ship first, curse self later," Castor decided, pulling Dorgono and Gorge to their feet. "You two: with me. Everyone else, defend the ship!" 

"I'm going with you!" Lyse cried, stepping forward. "Makoto and the twins should be more than capable of defending the ship, and the rest of the crew is here, too!" 

Castor glanced back at Gorge, and a thought hit him. "Very well. Lyse, Dorgono, Gorge: with me! Let us rid this accursed isle of voidsent and get our ship moving again!" 

Dorgono's blood roared, Karash's power sending veins of warmth through her body as she plunged onto the rocky, desolate island after her mentor. The unnatural chill contested the warmth of her primal rage, but Dorgono focused on killing the creatures that were now swarming towards the group. 

Castor held his massive axe with but a single hand, and each swing ripped apart the beasts with ease. Even the ones with shells were helpless, and as Castor swept them aside, Dorgono became aware of the worm's lagging behind. 

Her rage sparked, and she roughly seized the man's arm and heaved him forward. 

"H-hey!" The worm blurted as Dorgono dragged him to the front.

"Fight, worm! I'll not let you cower behind Castor!" She snarled, hefting her axe and charging ahead. 

More creatures emerged from the waters to attack, but Dorgono drew upon her newfound knowledge and strength to hack them apart before they presented so much of a threat. 

"Observe your foes, learn their patterns, and strike where they're weak," Castor's voice sailed over to her, drawing her gaze.

Her mentor was facing off against a massive crustacean-like creature with a barbed tail boasting blades long enough to impale Gulo Gulos from back on the Steppe, and Dorgono watched in awe as Castor's axe loped off several of the thing's legs with precise swings. The screeching beast collapsed heavily, shaking the rocks as its armored body scraped loudly against stone, and Castor drove the blade of his katana into a fleshy spot under the creature's mandibles. 

"Hey!" Gorge's shout snapped Dorgono's attention to the aerial creatures diving towards her, and she readied her axe to cut them from the sky.

Gorge beat her to it, his massive weapon viciously plowing through the creatures and dropping their gory pieces to the ground before she could even react. 

"Ha! So the worm can fight, after all!" Dorgono sneered at the weakling, who only responded with a grunt of annoyance. 

"Take this!" Lyse's scarlet form rocketed past, her spiked caesti plowing into more of the beasts. 

Dorgono snorted, the spark of competition once again igniting within her breast. "You'll not best me, outlander!" 

She stampeded after Lyse, laying waste to all that stood in their path until the narrow islets gave way to a great peninsula with a path leading further up the craggy island. A great tentacled beast, perhaps the parent of the smaller ones that had assaulted the ship, hovered in their way, its ghastly face twisted with bestial rage. 

"Right! How do you want to do this?" Lyse asked, Makoto and Gorge approaching with Castor at the rear. 

Dorgono tensed her muscles, about to demonstrate exactly what she wanted to do, when Castor placed a hand on her shoulder to halt her.

"We're short on time: let me handle this vermin," he rumbled, striding forward and holstering his axe in favor of that strange black hilt that always adorned his waist. 

"You plan to beat it to death with that hilt?" Dorgono knew he could do it, without a doubt, but the only question was why.

Castor said nothing, striding towards the beast and extending the hilt out to the side. Waves of dark power circled him, and a flash of silver light extended from the hilt. A dark blade exuding a faint aura of menace burst into existence, and Castor didn't break stride as he raised his weapon high. 

The beast shrieked and tried to smack him with its tentacles, and Castor's fell blade flicked outwards with blinding speed. Dark, otherworldly steel parted flesh as if it never existed, the beast's agonized scream squelching into silence as Castor's follow up strokes ripped its fleshy form to pieces. 

The pieces splattered onto the ground, spilling gore and foul-smelling blood. Dorgono wrinkled her nose at the utterly wretched stench, but Castor strode through it as if it didn't affect him at all. 

Dorgono and that Lyse woman were immediately on his heels, Dorgono glancing behind her to make sure that the worm wasn't attempting to skulk away. He wasn't, and Dorgono nodded to herself as the rocky path yielded to a large cove of sorts filled with the wreckages of what looked to be dozens of different vessels. 

"This...aether..." Castor frowned at the flotsam, and Dorgono's jaw dropped as a ghostly galleon materialized on the far end of the bay, pulsing with ominous, otherworldly light. "That explains it." 

Thundering booms shook the bay, cannons belching smoke from the ghostly vessel as spectral ammunition shrieked through the air. Castor swung his dark blade, expelling silvery energy that scythed forward and slammed into the oncoming artillery, detonating each shot in midair. 

Dorgono shielded her face with her hand as harsh wind tore at her, whipping her hair about wildly and smacking her with debris. 

"I'll keep the artillery from hitting us," Castor wasn't even fazed, his expression cold and calculating. "It looks like we can use the wreckage to cross." 

"Right!" Ltse slammed a fist into her palm, excitement gleaming within her fierce eyes. 

That woman was one hell of a warrior, and Dorgono once again had to fight down the desire to challenge her to a contest of strength. 

Castor strode forward, then leaped off the rocky cliff overlooking the cove, wood splintering under the impact of his powerful legs as he slammed onto the ruins of a vessel. His long strides carried him over the decks with ease, blades of moonlight intercepting shrieking artillery shells and detonating them in midair. 

The shockwaves again buffered the trio, but Dorgono was prepared and weathered the storm more easily this time. 

"Let's go! Wait up, Castor!" Lyse jumped down after him, hitting the decks running. 

Dorgono glanced back at Curious Gorge and once again a spark of rage went through her heart as she saw him hesitating. 

And this was the one responsible for training Castor?! He was so weak! So cowardly! A Warrior, Azim's ass! 

He met her gaze, his odd expression unnerving her as he gazed upon her with eyes similar to a tamed dzo's. More cannonfire, more explosions and buffeting gales in the background. 

"Get moving!" She snapped, taking ahold of his arm and heaving him over the edge of the cliff. 

Gorge bellowed with alarm, his arms flailing as he plummeted, before crashing onto the ship below and plowing through the upper deck. Dorgono leaped down after him, landing much more gracefully next to the new hole in the deck and reaching down to grab his arm again. 

"Get up, worm! You're a Warrior, aren't you?! Get up and fight!" Her anger pushed the words from her mouth, her teeth gritting into a snarl. "Come on! Where's the Warrior who forged Castor into what he is today?!" 

Gorge glared up at her, a spark of anger flickering across his eyes before he hauled himself out of the hole he'd made. Dorgono released him, then gripped her axe tightly as she rose. 

"Come on, then! Prove that you deserve to call yourself a Warrior!" She had to urge him on, to get him out of...whatever it was that was holding him back. 

Gorge growled and rose to his full height, shooting Dorgono a murderous glare before both of them stomped after the path of corpses that Castor and Lyse were leaving behind. 

She looked ahead just in time to see the ghostly galleon that had been firing upon them erupt in an explosion of moonlight, skeletal crew members pinwheeling through the air in pieces. The vessel swayed unsteadily, wood and metal groaning, and Dorgono dashed after her mentor. 

Some bird-like creatures, perhaps survivors of Castor's rampage, dove upon the two Warriors, but Dorgono hacked them out of the air with ease. She ran, pushing her muscles even harder as she wove her way through the mangled remains of voidsent carpeting a ruined deck, nimbly scrambling over a boom to the shimmering ghost ship. 

Her feet hit the decks with a soft thud, and Dorgono charged across as quickly as she could. Everything about this ghastly vessel unnerved her, and she wanted to be back on solid land immediately. 

Gorge was on her heels, and the moment she got to the bulwark of the ship, cold horror that was not her own trickled into her mind. A massive humanoid voidsent crumpled onto the ground, its ravaged skin leaking gore as its inhumanely long limbs slapped limply against the stone earth. 

The fear faded almost instantly, and Dorgono hurried forward the moment she saw Castor kneeling over a gasping, bleeding Lyse. 

"Hit her with some sort of shadow," Castor grunted, not even turning to Dorgono as gentle emerald light ensconced his fingers. "I didn't kill it fast enough."

Lyse exhaled heavily, her gaze rising to look upon her friend. "Not...your fault...I was...too slow..." 

"Hush," Castor ordered, his emerald-shrouded hand roaming over the cuts on Lyse's arms and face, closing each one with ease. "Talking will only make closing those wounds more irritating for both of us." 

Dorgono stepped closer, pausing to examine the ghastly voidsent for a moment before turning her gaze back to Castor. "Was that it? The monster pulling the ship towards the island?" 

"No," Castor shook his head. "I can still feel the one responsible deeper inland. This was the one responsible for wrecking those ships out there, however, and the bloodstains on the floor tell me that a lot of people were dragged into that cave over there." 

Dorgono spotted the crusted, brown stains smeared all over the rocks behind her mentor, easily distinguishable from the blue-green stones comprising the voidsent's perch. "A lot, indeed..."

Castor rose, his duster billowing around him as a cold wind howled over the island. His golden hair-tail swayed atop his head, the steel in his equally golden irises sending shivers up Dorgono's spine. 

He looked like an ancient Steppe warlord, with that axe on his back and the katana on his waist, ready to march onto the battlefields and bathe in the blood of his enemies. It made Dorgono's heart ripple and pound in ways that didn't feel unpleasant at all. 

"Let's move," Castor gazed down upon Lyse. "Can you walk?" 

To her credit, the woman nodded furiously before slowly pushing herself to stand at his side. "Let's go!" 

Castor nodded, taking a moment to examine Lyse before apparently deciding that she would be fine. Without another word, he unsheathed his katana with a single hand and strode into the cavern the bloodstains led to. 

Dorgono and Lyse followed, Gorge bringing up the rear as the cave mouth opened into a a long, narrow cavern lined with crude, wooden cell doors. Dorgono peered into the closest, only to recoil at the gangrenous stench that lanced her nostrils. Tears stung her eyes from the sheer rot, and she stumbled back to escape the rotted, bloated mass of flesh that was the source of the smell. 

The thing had clearly been dead for a long time, if the saggy, peeling flesh was any indication. 

"W-what happened to these people?!" Lyse gagged, her face white with horror as she stumbled back from another cell. "By the Twelve!" 

The worm chose this moment to double over and empty the contents of his stomach upon the floor, gagging and groaning as he clutched at his abdomen. 

Castor studied the corpses for a moment, not fazed at all as his eyes narrowed. "Flesh violated with dark magic...aether is corrupted...bodies are a little old, but intact." 

He glanced further up the cave, and Dorgono could have sworn she heard him murmur "It's not her...she's dead..." 

Loud baying shook the cavern, making everyone present draw their weapons. Monstrous canine creatures were bounding down the cavern towards them, savaged maws bristling with yellowed fangs rivaling sword blades. 

"Let's do this!" The creatures were roughly the size of a Steppe horse, but Dorgono had fought Gulo Gulos and tigers larger than this. 

Lyse dashed forward to engage one of the creatures while Dorgono made a beeline for the second, dancing nimbly out of reach of gnashing fangs and skittering claws. The rancid stench still burned, but Dorgono pulled on her anger to push through it.

She ducked to avoid jaws powerful enough to bite her head off and drew upon the strength that welled up within her. 

Focus...just a little at a time. Don't let it take control, she reminded herself, swinging her axe with as much strength as she could muster. The steel head smashed brutally into the creature's pulsing neck, spraying black blood as bone crunched and skin split. She heaved against the wailing beast, sending it crashing to the ground on a fountain of visceral spray. 

Lyse shouted, and Dorgono glanced over just in time to see the second beast go flying before crashing into the stone cave walls with a sickening crack. 

"Rise!" A hoarse, almost inhuman voice warbled, and every single cell door snapped open on its own accord.

"Oh, Karash, no," Dorgono swore, mentally uttering every curse she could think of as the bloated, sagging remains of the island's former victims slowly rose to what passed as legs for them. 

"Corpse animation, eh?" Castor sighed. "I knew I should have destroyed the things before giving their master the time to get them moving." 

The corpses closest to him fell to pieces, cut cleanly by the fine edge of his katana and splattering across the cavern floors. 

"Ugh! This is disgusting! Even worse than the Morbols!" Lyse gagged as she attempted to pummel one of the bloated masses, stumbling back as the rancid stench overwhelmed her. 

"Agreed," Dorgono inhaled, fighting down her gag reflex, and then held her breath as she brought her axe down on the misshapen, blob-like mass of soft flesh and spongy bone. "Though...I do not know what Morbols are..."

It crumpled immediately, erupting into a gory, visceral mass and Dorgono clamped her mouth shut as a torrent of dark, clotted blood sprayed out of the mangled mess. The spray splattered across her torso, somehow hot and cold at the same time, and Dorgono fought down another gag as she moved away from the gurgling, liquidated creature. 

She looked about, a frown adorning her lips the moment she spotted a prone Curious Gorge sprawled upon the ground as Castor stood over him, hacking apart the rotting monstrosities that had been swarming towards him. 

Castor's blade was a silver line of flashing steel that nothing could cross: limbs and bodies thunking to the floor around him in a viscous spray. Dorgono couldn't tear her gaze away from the sheer ease with which her mentor slaughtered everything in sight, even if the smell was making her want to hack her own nose off. 

"Pay attention!" Castor snapped, and Dorgono's finely honed senses screamed a warning at her. 

She spun, swinging blindly at the presence she could feel encroaching towards her, and her axe bit into flabby, rotting flesh. Bones snapped, and the corpse that had been about to sink cracked, grey teeth into her keeled over, what was left of its face peeling off of the skull and spilling onto the floor. 

Seeing no other nearby threats, Dorgono quickly glanced around the corridor. Lyse punched a corpse's head so hard, the thing exploded in a burst of clotted blood, bone shards, and grey matter, coupled by a flying eyeball. 

"Gross!" She wailed, bounding away from the gore-spewing corpse as foul offal splattered across her. 

"Fall!" Castor's snarl grabbed both women's attention, and Dorgono dashed towards her mentor the moment she spotted the massive, coffin toting corpse he was contending with. 

Her feet slid on the stony floor, and she cursed, glaring down at the dark blood and rotting organs that now painted it with disgusting brown hues before she caught herself and continued on. 

Castor lopped off the creature's arms with precise strokes, the limbs thudding onto the ground, then reared back and slid his katana back into its sheath, ice crackling and forming around his feet. He exploded into action, pulling his blade out and carving into the thing's torso with three lightning-fast strikes, his katana singing and slicing through the air, itself. 

The creature's ravaged, puffy body fell apart almost instantly, organs and offal spilling onto the floor en masse as the pieces of its remains splattered onto the mess. 

Castor wiped his bloody sword on a bit of the creature's shirt, scowling as the weapon came away with more smeared offal upon it. Sighing, Castor lifted his left hand, which pulsed with aether, and a burst of power expelled the gore in a flash of light.  

"Everyone alright?" He sheathed the blade, his gaze turning first to Dorgono, then to Lyse. "Well, Gorge got knocked over the head, from what I can tell. Had to keep those damn flesh-eaters off of him." 

Dorgono snorted as she strode over to her mentor, warily eyeing her path as her boots slapped down upon blood and spilled organs and limbs. "Of course he did. You told me he trained you, didn't he?" 

Castor shrugged. "None of the people I got my Soul Crystals from personally trained me, with the exception of Yugiri. I trained myself, then returned to them after a period of time had passed to see if the Soul Crystals decided that I was ready." 

"Y-you trained yourself?" Dorgono glared at the unconscious Roegadyn. "Then what did this worm do, exactly?!" 

Castor grunted, hauling Gorge over his left shoulder-axe and all-like a sack of fresh produce. "Looked through books while I trained, trying to learn more about the secrets of the Warrior. He also got pissed when the real artifact armor, which his own armor is a replica of, responded to me, rather than to him. He lost himself to his Inner Beast and damn near killed a little girl before I got to him and knocked him onto his arse." 

The Warrior of Twilight then strode towards the other end of the cavern, holding Gorge upon his shoulder with a single arm as the Roegadyn swayed limply with each step. Dorgono snorted again, vowing to thrash the worm for his impudence later as she strode after Castor. 

Lyse fell into step at her side, whining softly as she attempted to wring bits of gore and fleshy matter from her hair. 

Castor's keen ears must have heard her, as his fingers snapped and a surge of aether blasted the woman. The matted gore shot free like arrows from a hunter's bow, joining the rest of their ilk upon the floor.

"T-thanks, Castor!" Lyse flushed with embarrassment, apparently not aware she had been carrying on so much. 

"No worries: it takes forever to get that crap out of your hair, otherwise," Castor chuckled, slowing his pace to allow his companions a chance to catch up to his ridiculous gait. "It's even worse if the hair's as long as yours, too." 

Dorgono nodded slowly, absently running a hand through her own shortened white bangs. "That is why I wear mine so short. Leaves less for my enemies to grab, too."

"It suits you," Castor commented, and Dorgono fought down a stupid grin that threatened her lips. 

The cave opened into a narrow valley of sorts, filled with ominous crystals of violet hue. Thick fog hovered over the dark landscape, filling it with an even more dreadful aura. Dorgono clenched her axe tightly with both hands, her eyes darting this way and that as she scanned the haze for movement. 

"Two of those dogs up ahead," Castor warned, and Dorgono noted with surprise that his golden eyes were literally glowing. "Then...we'll be close to the voidsent responsible for dragging us here." 

Monstrous howls echoed from up ahead, distorted by the heavy air, and two of those demon dogs did indeed bound forward, fangs gnashing. 

Dorgono readied her axe, but Castor shook his head before advancing right towards the onrushing beasts. Without even breaking stride, Castor's metal sabaton snapped out and crashed onto the closest beast's head as it lunged at him, bone cracking loudly. 

The hound went flying and crashed into the nearby wall, cracking the stone, and its fellow's snarls degraded into a pained yelp as its skull was crushed under the same foot. Castor continued, unflinching, as his feet clanked against the ground already becoming wet with the blood seeping from the creature's crushed cranium. 

"Gods, he can be a bit scary sometimes," Lyse murmured, though her voice betrayed no fear. "But...I wouldn't trust my life to anyone else. He's my dearest friend, and I wouldn't have anyone else at my side." 

Dorgono nodded. "I can see why. He's' a fearsome warrior and a kind man." 

Lyse giggled. "He is. I love him more than anyone."

Wait, what? 

"You're interested in him?" Dorgono turned her head to her companion, whose face immediately turned the color of her apparel. 

"H-huh? Not like that! Not like that!" She stammered, waving her hands around wildly. "I love him because he's my dearest friend! That's all!" 

Castor remained silent, though Dorgono knew he was listening to everything they were saying. The group walked in silence, moving through the narrow gorge until it widened before some sort of derelict tower. An odd device adorned the very top of the structure, pulsing with blue energy.

Yet another horrid stench assailed Dorgono's nostrils, and she fought down a gag as a massive, blob-like creature with rippling black 'flesh' peeled itself off the ground before them. 

"Another one...Our prey awaits in the tower," Castor crouched and gently deposited Gorge before rising to his full height.

Dorgono grit her teeth as the creature warbled with an ear-grating wail, its body rippling and sloshing enough to give even the Dotharl nightmares. Hells, this entire damn island would give the Dotharl nightmares! 

"You poor, wretched souls," Castor's deep voice filled the silence that followed. "What has been done to you? Your bodies have been liquified and melted together...gods...the pain you must have endured...the pain you are still suffering...Allow me to free you." 

The creature wailed again, dark fluids gushing from its body as Castor strode towards it. It reared back, gathering power that made Dorgono's fine hairs stand up on end, and Castor blurred. 

He was standing behind the creature in the blink of an eye, his blade an extension of pure moonlight flickering silver from where it was extended at his side. Silver veins rippled to life upon the creature's body, writhing and swirling in tandem with the creature's halting movements. 

The moonlight flared brighter and brighter, to the point it forced Dorgono to avert her gaze until a loud, rippling shriek broke the air. Wet splattering followed, along with a soft, persistent hissing noise. Dorgono looked back to see that the creature had internally burst, perhaps fried from within by the moonlight, and its exploded remains painted the ground in a black, steaming starburst. 

"Rest," Castor said softly, his voice almost a whisper. 

With that done, he strode forward towards the tower, his blade swaying at his side. Dorgono hurried to catch up, carefully skirting the perimeter of the steaming remains to stand next to Castor. The tower was silent and quite simple, in terms of architecture, with some sort of flower-like bulb hanging from the ceiling beams. 

The bulb radiated menace, and Dorgono immediately knew that's what they had come for. 

"So, you're the one responsible for all the suffering on this island," Castor's voice tightened with rage, and Dorgono shuddered as the air began to ripple with unfathomable power. "I'm going to enjoy rending you." 

She stole a glance at her mentor and backpedaled in shock as scarlet waves of what she swore felt like pure rage began emanating from the taller Au Ra. His golden eyes shone with a similar aura, though this one was the color of the sun as the smaller orbs burned. 

"C-Castor?" 

"Stay back," he growled, the clashing gold and scarlet auras rippling violently around him. "This...is  _my_  prey." 

His blade snapped outwards with blinding speed, expelling a wave of sharp moonlight that streaked towards bulb's 'stem'. The voidsent unfurled immediately, spreading wing-like appendages around a body that closely resembled a flower, a twisted smile on its lips as its crowned head ducked to avoid Castor's attack. 

_"Heh_ _heh_ _heh_ _, I've been waiting for you."_

Dorgono's legs began to move on their own, but Castor grabbed her with his free hand and lobbed her away from the cave, pain spiking through her back as she slammed into the ground. 

_"Ramble...Ramble...ramble with me all through the night..."_

In that brief moment before the world had turned upon her head, Dorgono dimly became aware of the revelation that the strange voidsent's head was actually detached from its body, hovering on its own power. 

_"Down...down...Down into the depths and to your death..."_

Something exploded, causing ripples to shake the island, and Dorgono pushed herself up just in time to see watery power crash all throughout the tower. The waves parted instantly, revealing Castor standing before the voidsent, untouched. 

 _"So spirited...but if you will not serve, then you will_ _suff_ _-"_  the thing's rant was cut off-quite literally-as blades of moonlight speared its body, ripping it apart. 

Castor jumped with blinding speed, trailing scarlet and golden light as he came face-to-face with the voidsent's wide eyes. 

"You enjoy suffering so much? Then take it," his voice rasped, and then his sword pierced the creature's head. 

It shrieked, shaking the isle to its very core, then crumpled. The creature exploded in a storm of darkness, fading away to nothingness, and the eerie atmosphere of the island faded instantly. The fog and the dark skies morphed into the bright afternoon so quickly it made Dorgono's eyes burn, the chill beaten back by the sea's warmth. 

Metal footsteps drew Dorgono's gaze-now shielded by a raised hand-back to the approaching form of Castor, whose dimmed eyes were filled with darkness and rage. His duster swayed in the warm breeze, katana clinking within its scabbard as it bounced against his waist with each step. 

Her instincts screamed at her to run, to escape before death could take her, but she fought it back with all the ferocity she could muster. Castor paused at her side, radiating menace in a fell shroud, and a gentle hand pulled her up to her feet. Dorgono gazed upon his face, startled by the steely rage she could see shimmering within his dark irises. 

Castor released her, crouching and again hauling Curious Gorge onto his shoulder. "Come, we should get back as quickly as we can." 

He'd had enough death for one day, and frankly, so had Dorgono


	12. Eastward Arrival

"There it is!" Makoto's excited voice carried well on the soft, salty breeze, even from the deck above. "I must get Sir Castor!" 

Lyse's warm body stirred at his side, grumbling softly as the bed creaked under their combined weight. Her hands were splayed across his chest, and she held him rather possessively to her as she dozed. 

She'd come to him last night to talk, to check up on him and see how he was faring. Lyse had been worried, ever since the island back in the Sirensong, roughly a week and a half ago, and she'd spoken to him many times regarding how he'd been affected by it. Without Myste to hold his anger and rage back with guilt and humanity, Castor had yielded entirely to his Darkside in laying waste to the filthy voidsent poisoning the Sirensong, and he'd enjoyed every moment of it.

And then she'd fallen asleep, her breathing deep and even as her head had claimed his chest as its pillow. He'd had to spit out some strands of her long hair a couple times at first before finally being able to settle in, himself. He cradled her within his right arm, ignoring how her body weight pressed down upon the limb and partially repressed the blood flow. The numbing had faded to nothingness a long time ago, but Castor didn't mind. So long as Lyse was comfortable. 

He heard Makoto's footfalls approaching the cabin and briefly reminisced about the first time the samurai maiden had found him and Lyse sharing the same bed. Makoto had been horrified, her face turning beet red as she'd stammered dumbly and made odd gestures with her hands. And then she'd sprinted out of the room, apparently believing that the male/female duo had been engaging in sexual activities rather than just sleeping in the same bed. 

Castor had tracked her down and explained, several times, before Makoto had finally come to terms with what he'd explained and not believing that he'd been lying to cover his tracks. She'd been utterly embarrassed at her assumption, of course, and had apologized profusely until Castor had reminded her that many people had drawn that same conclusion upon finding him and Lyse in the same bed. 

The door creaked open, and Castor commended Makoto's restraint as the woman slowly entered the room to minimize the noise she would make. The samurai's gleaming eyes peered around the door at him, her face lit up into a beautiful, energized smile. 

"Sir Castor! We've arrived in Kugane!" She whispered, barely keeping her voice down. 

He grinned back at her, finding the woman's excitement contagious. "Excellent." 

Castor nudged Lyse with his arm, drawing a sleepy mumble from her, then poked her cheek repeatedly. 

"Lyse, get up: we're here," he growled into her ear, and Lyse's startling blue eyes finally opened to gaze upon him. 

"What?" She mumbled, eyes blurred with sleep.

"We've made it to Kugane," he made to rise, Lyse sliding off of his chest with a sleepy groan before landing upon the mattress. 

She pushed herself up, shaking her head and sending waves of her blond curls everywhere. "We're here?" 

Castor pushed himself out of the covers and stood, encasing his body once more with Severus' duster. The material still smelled faintly of oil, lingering from the cleaning he'd given it, as per his Tribune's instructions on how to maintain it. At least it was easy to clean, like most Garlean-made fibers were. 

"I'll...be up in a moment or two!" Lyse, still in the shirt she'd stolen from him back in Eorzea, began to rouse herself, reaching for her clothes. 

Hopefully, somewhere in Kugane, they'd be able to find a nice bathhouse and a place to clean their clothes. Castor was getting tired of the stench of unwashed bodies and salty spray. 

"Don't take too long, eh?" He teased, striding after Makoto as Lyse stuck her tongue out at him. 

Makoto was almost bouncing on her heels with each step, making her katana clink and rattle in tune to the duo's footsteps. Castor kept his head bowed to avoid hitting the ceiling, as always, and was all too glad to escape the cramped corridors in favor for the brightly lit upper decks. The sun was about a quarter of the way in the azure, cloud-decorated skies, and Castor's breath was wrenched from him the moment he saw what he had spent nearly a month on this damn boat for.

Kugane sprawled out before him in a beautiful array of buildings piercing the skies, the distinct Eastern architecture painted a variety of bright, beautiful colors. Several towers, bedecked with eastern symbols and finery, rose above all the others, and behind some massive walls lie a beautiful castle-like structure Castor guessed was the home of the city's ruling body. 

"It's beautiful," the words escaped his lips before he could help it, and Makoto beamed at him. 

"It is, isn't it? And Ugetsu would tear it all down..." She shook her head as a shadow crossed her bright features. "Ah, but I get ahead of myself...First, we must land and secure lodgings for you and your comrades, no?" 

Castor nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from the sheer beauty of the city sprawling out before him. He could see some sort of paper lanterns hanging over shops, the streets bustling with Hingan civilians and black-garbed Sekisegumi samurai. He could spot some foreigners-tall Elezen with pale hair and bright jackets and some Lalafells. 

Carvallain called out, barking orders for his crew as the ship drew closer to the docks. Alphinaud and Alisaie joined Castor, both gazing upon the city with equal wonder. 

"Wow!" Tataru made her way over, eyes wide. "Where do we even begin?" 

"Lodgings, after seeing if they even accept Eorzean currency here," Castor could see markets all throughout the city, the scents of different foods and oils wafting over on the gentle breeze. 

"I believe they do," Makoto spoke up. "There is a merchant from Eorzea who runs an office in the Ruby Bazaar. If I'm remembering correctly, he works for the East...Addlenard Company?" 

Castor's insides rotted within him. "East Aldenard Company...damn you, Lolorito..." 

"Lolorito? No, my friend, the merchant's name is Hancock," Makoto corrected, blissfully unaware of the former's connection to the company. 

"Lolorito is the name of the man who owns the East Aldenard Company, Lady Makoto," Alphinaud gently explained. "We've...had some bad blood with him in the past." 

Makoto's eyes hardened instantly. "How unfortunate...If they give you any trouble, do not hesitate to call upon me, my friends." 

"If who gives us trouble?" Lyse strode up from below, still fiddling with her ponytail in an attempt to straighten it out. 

Castor smiled at her, admittedly a bit too pleased at how the gesture flustered her. "Apparently, His Most Lordly Pain in the Ass has some assets here in Kugane."

"What?" Lyse and the others were all staring at him, confused.

"Lolorito," he grumbled, and realization as well as bitter animosity gleamed within the eyes of all present.  

"Oh," Lyse scowled, her gaze hardening. "Should we expect a fight?"

"Not if Lolorito's smart," Castor grunted. 

More footsteps, and Dorgono joined him by the rail. 

"Castor, what were you saying about expecting a fight?" She asked, her eyes blazing with anticipation. 

"We might run into some trouble with some old foes from back home," Castor replied, keeping it short and blunt. "I'm not anticipating any real problems, but it wouldn't hurt to stay on our guard." 

Dorgono nodded but didn't press the matter, joining the others in gazing at the approaching cityscape as the  _Misery_  cut through the waves. Gorge soon took a spot by the bulwarks as well, although his attention seemed to be split between the city and the petite Au Ra standing at Castor's side. 

The Eorzeans and their companions sidled back to get out of the crew's way as they bustled about, settling into the rhythm of docking. 

Castor kept his gaze on the city, reaching out to see if he could detect any trace of Yugiri's presence within the winding, bustling streets. She wasn't there, and his heart sank at the revelation. It was an unrealistic, foolish hope, but he couldn't help having it. 

_Such foolishness..._

He remained silent, studying Kugane as the crew eased their vessel into the docks and secured it, scrambling about with practiced efficiency, tying off ropes, and furling the sails. The ship bumped softly against the dock before falling still, its long journey finally complete. 

"Well, my friends, here we are!" Captain Carvallain announced, gesturing grandly with his arm. "Welcome to Kugane!"

Castor nodded and, without even waiting for the crew to extend the gangplank, climbed over the railing and jumped down to the dock below. His feet slammed into the wood, making the entire structure tremble and drawing startled looks from many of the dock workers and other civilians. 

Lyse landed to his left with a softer thud, grinning happily as he raised an eyebrow at her. 

"What? It looked like fun," she shrugged.

Castor nodded. "It was." 

Then he took a few steps to the side, pulling Lyse by the arm. Not even a moment later, Dorgono slammed into the dock where she'd been standing, a wild gleam in the Au Ra's eyes and a wicked grin upon her lips. 

"That was fun!" She agreed, actually laughing as she straightened. 

Castor swept his gaze over the many staring civilians, most clad in colorful kimonos or other eastern garb he did not know the names of. He waited for the gangplank to smack onto the deck beside the group, wood striking wood with a loud crack and depositing the rest of his allies. 

Makoto's presence drew surprised looks from some of the Sekiseigumi, and two of the samurai dashed over to her.

"Lieutenant!" They saluted her, suspicious gazes darting to Castor and co. "These are the ones you left to get?" 

Makoto looked at Castor, and he nodded despite the internal screaming for him not to. 

She smiled, gentle and sincere, before turning back to her comrades. "Admittedly, no, but these brave souls offered their aid to me and plan to leave for Doma to fight the Empire." 

The samurai's eyes widened, lacing with a tinge of fear. "Truly? Brave souls, indeed...I trust you've informed them of our laws, Lieutenant?" 

"Do not disturb the city peace or face summary execution," Castor answered. "But, if we have no choice but to defend ourselves from an attacker?"

"Then you are free to do so, so long as you report the incident to the Sekisegumi," Makoto hurriedly put in. "And as long as you do not threaten innocent lives." 

"Trust me: the last thing I want to do is disturb the peace," Castor gazed about at the beautiful city, his keen ears picking up whispers just underneath the loud bustle. 

There was tension, just beneath the surface, fear mingling with the calls of the markets and the docks. The scent of cooked fish and more assailed his nostrils, mingling with the salty sea breeze and the incense that filled the air with dozens of scents. At least he wasn’t swaying, feeling as if he were still on that blasted ship. 

"Then we will have no issues," one of the samurai nodded, satisfied, casting a wary gaze upon Castor. "Which I am pleased to hear...yet...I get this...terrible feeling that you, alone, would be capable of single-handedly razing the entire city and slaughtering us all...Forgive me, I fear my imagination must be running amok!" 

Castor chuckled. "Ah, I do not think I would be capable of such a terrible feat, my friend. If I was, then no Imperial installation would be safe from my wrath." 

The second samurai snorted. "Indeed. But, just to inform you, there is an Imperial embassy in the Ijin quarter, where the foreigners stay. If you start up any trouble with the Imperials, you will be dealt with." 

That explained that black building he could see in the farthest corner of the city, just past the markets. A Garlean Embassy, eh? Great. 

"I will respect Kugane's laws and those who abide by them, no matter who they may be," Castor answered. "So long as the Imperials do not cause us harm, I will leave them alone." 

"That is all we ask," Makoto said, waving off her subordinates. "Return to your duties: I will take care of our friends here before resuming my position." 

The two samurai saluted before striding away, their jackets and white long skirts swaying in their wake as their sandals clipped against the wooden docks. 

"Are you ready to go, my friends?" Makoto asked, turning back to them. 

"I believe we are," Castor answered, glancing at his ensemble. "Where should we head, first?" 

Makoto gestured to the tower looming ahead, the middle one that had a large bridge connecting it to the one lording over what appeared to be an airship landing. "The Shiokaze Hostelry would be a good place to start."

Castor could see a gravel floor on the inside of the tower, lined on either side with counters and short tables with cushion pads. Makoto lead them over, Castor already aware of the wary or awed stares following the group's every move.

How many of those innocently-dressed patrons were Imperial spies? How many of those wide-eyed stares fixed upon him were memorizing his face to report to their Imperial masters? 

"Ah, the rumors were true!" A blond, decidedly foreign man dressed in local livery and red tinted glasses strode over, his grin immediately irritating Castor. 

"Sir Hancock," Makoto bowed, the merchant reciprocating. "To what do we owe this honor?" 

"Lady Makoto, I would like to have words with you, but..." Hanock glanced around, his smile curving slightly downward, "we do not know whose ears might be listening. I would give our friends here a tour of the city before bringing them to our offices for some privacy." 

"Lead the way," Castor grunted, and Makoto nodded. 

"If that's the case, I must return to the barracks," the samurai bowed to Hancock and then to Castor. "Castor, if you could join me after you've had some time to recuperate, I would like to begin the process of dealing with our city's troubles." 

Castor returned the bow, ignoring the icy rage that burned within his gut at the thought of slaving in service to yet another damn city. "I will do so, Lady Makoto. Thank you." 

Makoto rose and smiled again. "No, my friend, thank you. And if any trouble at all arises, you can always call upon me. Farewell!"

After another quick bow to the rest of the company, she dashed off into the city, disappearing amongst the crowds. 

"Right! This way, my friends!" Hancock's smile returned in full force, but Castor could already sense the fear emanating from the merchant. 

Fear of him, of the weapons strapped to his body. Fear of the fierce-looking Dorgono and of Lyse. Of Gorge, and the potential dangers they represented as a whole. A heavily armed party of foreigners arriving in the city when such unrest threatened its borders...no wonder so many fearful looks were being sent their way. 

Castor leaned over, glaring at Hancock. "Just letting you know that if Lord Lolorito gave you orders to interfere with our mission here or to toy with us, then I will not hesitate to reduce your assets here to ash. Is that clear?" 

He kept his voice soft and barely audible, noting with pleasure how Hancock's face drained completely of color and his smile became even more forced. "Worry not, my friend! Lord Lolorito asks that I do what I can to make sure you and your companions are comfortable here, and I believe that he wishes to atone by having our offices fully at your disposal!" 

"Of course he does," Castor severely doubted that Lolorito wanted to atone for anything, but suspected the worm only offered his services and assets to try to get himself back into Nanamo's good graves. "Lead the way." 

Hancock bowed and strode out the other door, and Castor glimpsed a single bead of sweat dropping from his nose. 

 _"When you get to the Steppe, you're going to have_ _Magnai's_ _ilk pissing themselves."_  Nhaama commented, and Castor had to keep himself from jumping at the sudden eikonic intrusion.

"Nhaama," he had to bite down his tongue to keep himself from answering aloud. "Have you and Azim been occupied? You've been rather quiet, lately." 

 _"_ _Ascians_ _and a very annoyed_ _Midgardsormr_ _,"_  Nhaama growled in response.  _"They're so desperate to force their gods upon us...they've been a constant pain in mine and Azim's asses."_  

Castor followed the rest of the group in silence, absorbing the sights as quickly as he could while Hancock rattled on about this or that. The aetheryte was impressive and quite beautiful, and Castor automatically attuned himself to it as a wide-eyed Roegadyn samurai looked him up and down. 

"By the Kami, they just keep getting bigger..." The man muttered. 

Castor fought down the urge to snort and kept moving, fully aware of how Lyse and Dorgono hung close to his sides. "Well, I haven't sensed you drawing more on my power, so I can assume they weren't much of a challenge?" 

Nhaama chuckled.  _"Please, ever since you showed us that little trick with absorbing the_ _Ascian_ _souls, dealing with those weaklings has been child's play."_

"And our whiney little dragon king?" 

 _"His presence has gotten easier to block, but he's annoyingly persistent,"_  Nhaama's merriment faded instantly.  _"Castor, you have to get to the Steppe as quickly as possible. The_ _N_ _aadam_ _will soon be upon us, and you must be the one to claim the Dawn Throne."_  

"And I will. Doma must come first, however," Castor responded. 

She wasn't pleased with his answer, but she kept silent. Hancock led the group to the Kugane Dori, the markets, and briefly introduced them to the master of the markets. Castor noted the burly man and dismissed him as a threat before following Hancock, continuing to absorb all the information about the city's layout as he could. 

"Here we are! The Ruby Bazaar!" Hancock announced, waving his arm at the building looming overhead. "You and yours are welcome to utilize them to your heart's content." 

Castor nodded slowly, and Hancock led the group inside. The foyer was small, filled with chairs and a desk that a lone secretary stood behind. The secretary smiled as the group entered, the false smile of a man used to greeting important personnel. 

"Welcome to the Ruby Bazaar!" The rehearsed lines spilled from his tongue, and Castor merely nodded before trailing Hancock into the lushly furnished room awaiting them. 

Hancock turned, gazing at Castor with thinly veiled fear. "Now, let us talk. What do you need?" 

Castor opened his mouth and froze instantly as the familiar intrusion of an eikon pressed into his mind. 

_"Your_ _soul is split, mortal. Darkness...hatred...love...Such chaos..."_

"Sophia," he growled, drawing a startled look from Hancock. 

Apparently, he'd said that aloud. 

"Eikon blabbering in my head," he grunted, closing his eyes and allowing himself to be drawn into the vestiges of his dark-riddled soul. 

Sophia was waiting for him within her crystalline prison, her keen eyes piercing him with ease as she hovered within the translucent walls of aether.  

"You haven't spoken since the day I fought you," Castor crossed his arms before his chest. "Why break your silence now, Goddess?" 

A thin smile formed upon the eikon's pale lips, contrasting with her gray flesh and the ornate golden headdress that held up her long white locks. 

"Your heart....your soul...you are stagnating within this prison of your own making," she gazed around at her own aetherial cage, her wry smile instantly fading. "You brought equilibrium, but now it is gone." 

"If you're talking about Myste, that was almost a month ago," Castor growled, his eyes roaming the other prisons surrounding him, resting within the arcane perimeter of the Echo. 

Sophia's gaze never left him, the chiton wrap obscuring her breasts swaying as she shifted in her prison. "No, it is not that. Your guilt...it still exists, brings balance to the rage even as it traipses about half a world away from you. No, the imbalance is you."

"How does that make any sense?" Castor scowled at her. "The imbalance is me, yet it isn't." 

Sophia shook her head slowly. "The fracturing of your soul is not the imbalance I speak of." 

"What is it, then? Didn't I already have this conversation with Yugiri?"

"It is not guilt, or the weight of your past sins that imbalances you," Sophia's voice softened. "It is your anger at the world around you clashing with the one who means the world to you." 

Castor didn't let up on his scowl, although he had a funny feeling he knew what the Goddess was talking about. Or, more specifically, who. 

Sophia nodded, apparently satisfied with the revelation she could no doubt sense within him. "Do you see, now?" 

"Yugiri?" Castor's rage abated only slightly at the mention of his beloved friend. "How is Yugiri imbalancing me?" 

"Your love for her conflicts with your love for Lyse...and perhaps that Yatsurugi girl?" Sophia shrugged. "It is making you unstable." 

Yatsurugi? Yuki? 

"What are you talking about?" Castor scowled again. "I haven't thought of Yuki for months, now. And why wouldn't I be able to love Lyse and Yugiri, seeing as how they're two of my closest and dearest friends?" 

Also, he was surprised Sophia hadn't said Kan-E's name. 

True, he thought very highly about the Raen princess he'd aided with Oboro and Yugiri, but it could hardly be called love. Perhaps Sophia had drawn from the wrong memories? Castor briefly wondered if he would run into her in Doma, or somewhere in between. 

"Your heart belongs to them, and to the ones you've lost. Don't lose your way, champion of the Sun and Moon, lest your equilibrium be destroyed," Sophia advised, and Castor snorted. 

He left the prison behind and found himself standing back in Hancock's office. His allies were all staring at him, worried expressions on their faces.

"What a waste of time," he growled, shaking his head slowly to dispel the haze of transfer. "Sophia talks for the first time since defeating her, and it's a waste." 

"Goodness, that was interesting," Hancock commented. "'You turned almost...translucent and began shimmering with different lights." 

Castor shrugged. "Well, shall we continue with what must be done?" 

The merchant nodded slowly. "We need to see if there's any trace of your friends, no?"

"Yes: we need to track down Gosetsu and Yugiri," Alphinaud dug into his pack, then withdrew a sheet of paper stylized with stunningly lifelike depictions of the two Domans. 

"Goodness! They look so real!" Lyse gasped, drawing a chuckle from Alisaie. 

"Ah, yes, my brother's talent for drawing has not faded in the slightest, has it?" 

Castor couldn't tear his gaze away from the face of Yugiri, Sophia's words ringing through his head before he banished them. "Those are...impressive, but I do not think we will be able to find Yugiri here." 

"Why do you say that?" Alisaie frowned. 

"You forget: I can sense if Yugiri is nearby or not," Castor reminded them. "Her presence is in the city, true, but it's faint, residual. She was here recently, but now she is elsewhere. If I know her, then she would have avoided public transport to Doma, perhaps instead stowing away on a merchant ship or even a smuggler's. Gosetsu, on the other hand...he's too loud, too easy to pick out. They would have had to separate, with Yugiri going ahead and Gosetsu remaining to haggle for transport." 

Alisaie nodded thoughtfully, tapping her chin. "You know Yugiri far better than any of us...and that does make logical sense...So, what do you propose we do, if it wouldn't be a good idea to search for both of our friends?" 

"Gosetsu must still be in the city, if the fearful looks we've been receiving from the locals are any indication," Castor thought of another possible clue. "And one of the blades did say 'they just keep getting bigger' when he saw me. Gosetsu is a rather large character, no?" 

"And you are ridiculously huge," Dorgono snorted. "You tower over everyone here, even Gorge!" 

Castor grinned. "This height is a hindrance as much as it is a blessing, trust me." 

"So, where do we begin? The docks?" Alphinaud suggested.

"That does seem like a good place to start," Alisaie agreed, Lyse nodding.

"Very well. I'll go the Sekiseigumi and see if Lady Makoto has heard anything," Castor suggested.

"I'll stay here and set up a base of operations!" Tataru called, which he had honestly been expecting. 

They would need someone to stay in Kugane, managing their monetary affairs and keeping an eye out for rumors and possible Imperial issues. Tataru would be the best choice for this, as would Alphinaud, and Hancock  _had_  said that the offices were to be at their full disposal. 

"Good: we need someone holding the fort here, keeping an eye and ear out for news and rumors," Castor nodded. "With you here, we'll have a means of communicating back home and sending funds this way or that." 

Tataru grinned wickedly, which looked even more disturbing on her ordinarily precious, child-like face. "You read my mind, Castor!" 

"Dorgono, Gorge, I'd like the two of you to go to the hostelry to ask after Gosetsu," Castor turned his attention to the two he'd named, and both glanced at one another apprehensively. 

Well...Dorgono was apprehensive while Gorge looked very pleased. 

"I don't want anyone going through the city alone," Castor continued, glancing at the others. "Especially with the Imperials no doubt infesting the streets with spies and paid informants." 

"Yet you're fine with walking about alone?" Alphinaud asked drily. 

Castor nodded slowly. "I already stand out enough, Alphy. No doubt the Imperials will pay special attention to me, and I'd like to keep any interference from possible foes to a minimum."

"You don't have to protect us, you know," Lyse placed her hands on her hips, glaring defiantly at him. "I'm going with you." 

His heart lurched, and again Sophia's words pierced his skull. 

"No, you're going with the twins," he shook his head slowly, tried to clear the fog that had trickled into his skull. "I'll be able to explore more thoroughly on my own." 

With that done, Castor turned his back onto his allies and strode out of the Ruby Bazaar, leaving the startled Brass Blade guards behind as his armored sabatons clanked against the stone streets. 

He just...needed some time to think, to focus on the war and chaos to come. To chase the visage of his beloved Yugiri from his thoughts as it warred with Lyse. Gods damn me for being so soft.

Castor's body moved on its own, ignoring the markets in favor of the higher levels of the city. He was passing by an alley parallel to the markets when voices made him pause. 

"Lookee here, the bakufu's slave is helpless!" A rough voice sneered, followed by a guffaw. 

"T-traitors! Cowards!" Snarled a gasping, pained young man's voice. "You jump me from an alley and call yourselves brave?" 

"Braver than you! We actually have the guts to defy the oppressions of the bakufu!" 

Castor made his way down the stairs, his feet silent on the cobblestones as he ghosted past a line of wooden pillars holding up a balcony. Two men dressed in dark colors were standing over a Sekiseigumi blade, the man gasping and grunting as he tried to lift his bloodied form from underneath his foe's boot. 

Rebels serving Ugetsu? No matter: they would die just like any other. 

"You speak of bravery? Let us see how brave you are when I impale you upon the walls, begging for mercy," he swept forward as the two men jumped, his katana already singing from its scabbard. 

The first man died with a single stroke, nearly split in half from the Garlean-made steel. The second scrabbled back, his shriek of horror silencing as Castor slit his throat and kicked his corpse to the side. 

Both fell within a heartbeat of one another, spraying the tight quarters with their blood and organs. Castor stepped back to avoid the arterial spray, but the poor blade wasn't so lucky. 

"T-thank you, foreigner," the man spluttered after a moment of being doused in blood. "The cowards ambushed me on my patrol and dragged me here." 

He bore a multitude of cuts upon his form, his robes ragged and oozing blood that did and didn't belong to him. Castor tossed the Soul of the White Mage onto the man's lap, then knelt by him.

"At ease, let the crystal begin closing your wounds," he said softly. 

The man nodded slowly. "My brother blade...you must find him! If they attack him, too..."

"Where is he?" Castor remained calm despite the urge to curse profusely burning through his veins. 

"The markets...look for Sojiro..." 

Castor checked to ensure that the crystal was functioning-it was-before dashing back the way he'd come. The lone samurai standing watch over the markets was easy to find, the man warily resting a hand upon his katana's hilt as Castor approached him.

"Can I help you, ijin?" He asked coldly. 

"Your brother blade was assaulted by the canal by two rebels. I killed them and gave him a crystal to-" Castor paused as steel and leather whispered, a blade threatening his neck. 

"And you plan to lead me to my death, do you?" The samurai spoke slowly, dangerously, his eyes blazing with rage. 

"No, he asked me to come check on you; told me to look for Sojiro in the markets to ensure that you hadn't fallen victim to the same fate," Castor spoke without hesitation, not even giving that gleaming steel blade a second thought. "I left him a healing crystal to close his wounds in the meantime." 

The rage faded instantly. "Y-you saved him? Truly? T-thank you, ijin...I can't leave my post, but if you could give him this balm..."

The samurai lowered his weapon, sliding it back into its scabbard before pulling a small tin from the folds of his apparel. 

"Forgive me, my friend. Could you take this to my blade brother?" The man bowed low, offering the tin with both hands. 

Castor accepted it and returned the bow. "I shall, and there is nothing to be forgiven. You reacted the way I expected, and I don't blame you for being on edge." 

With that done, he retraced his steps back to the wounded blade and found him standing by the canal gurgling by the alley. The samurai looked up, his face pale, but a faint smile graced his lips. 

"Y-you're back...is he safe?" 

"He is unharmed and asked me to bring this to you," Castor offered the tin of balm, which the samurai took. 

"Thank you, sir. Thank you!" The man offered the Soul of the White Mage, which Castor reclaimed with a nod. 

"Are you capable of walking?" 

The samurai nodded firmly. "I am! Although, would it be too much trouble to ask you to accompany me to the barracks? I'm going to have to report this, and I want my commander to know of the good you've done." 

"I'll go with you, then," Castor nodded. 

The man beamed and took the lead, carefully working his way up the steps while clutching the railing with white-knuckled fists. Castor followed, keeping himself ready to catch the man should he fall. 

It was slow moving, but the duo steadily made their way over to a large rectangular building with two bridges connecting it to the rest of Kugane, each guarded by two blades. 

"Brother!" The two closest guards dashed over to their struggling comrade, hands going for their weapons as they eyed Castor. 

"Peace!" The man hesitated, as if realizing he didn't even know Castor's name. "This ijin saved my life!" 

The hostility drained from the guards, and one immediately called into the barracks for a healer. A few more blades, Makoto included, dashed into sight, and Castor hung back as they escorted their wounded comrade into the barracks. 

"Sir Castor!" Makoto was before him in an instant, relief shining in her eyes. "You saved Kai? Thank you, but what happened?" 

"Lieutenant, you know this...foreign samurai?" Another man strode out of the gates, his hard features the mask of a seasoned veteran. 

The other samurai saluted, Makoto included, and the man paused before Castor to glare up at him with cold, calculating eyes. 

"Captain Kongo!" Makoto remained stiff and formal as she bowed. "I do: I brought this warrior with me to aid in our efforts." 

Once again, steel whispered against leather, and once again, Castor found himself with a blade to his throat. 

He sighed. "Again, really? I'm beginning to wonder if I should just hand you samurai my sword so you can threaten me with my own steel, instead, as a way of greeting."  

"You think we need this ijin? For all we know, he could be an Imperial spy!" Kongo snarled, sparks of rage igniting within his dark eyes. 

"I harbor no love for the dogs of Garlemald," Castor replied evenly. "And if you desire proof that I have no desire to cause trouble for Kugane's people, you can gaze upon the dead insurgents who'd attempted to murder your man." 

"Captain, I can personally vouch for Castor's integrity," Makoto interjected softly.

He tired of playing these pathetic games with the weak and feeble...allowing them to feel strength that they did not have. Castor wanted to cross the Ruby Sea, to be by Yugiri's side again. She was one of the only things that made the screaming darkness fade. 

Her and Lyse, to a lesser extent. 

Kongo lowered his blade, perhaps contemplating. "If you get in the way or betray us at all, your life is forfeit. Makoto: you are responsible for this foreigner's actions, you hear me?" 

"Yes, captain," Makoto bowed, the relief in her voice all too evident. 

The captain gave Castor one last, untrusting glare before storming back into the barracks. The samurai not guarding the bridge followed suit, although their own expressions were mixed with curiosity, distrust, and gratitude. 

"Forgive me, Castor," Makoto murmured after a rather pregnant pause. "I... didn't expect Captain Kongo to respond so violently."  

"No harm done," Castor grunted. "Now, I was wondering if any of your reports from your absence had described another foreigner: a grizzled Doman samurai." 

Makoto nodded slowly. "They do: a man called Gosetsu is in our custody, having been arrested after fighting with Imperial troops by the docks."

"Imperial troops?" Castor frowned. "So, they are seeking potential rebels attempting to get to Doma and attempting to eliminate them in Kugane. Might I speak with Gosetsu? He is one of the people I traveled East to find." 

Makoto bowed. "I'll see if I can arrange it. According to the reports, he didn't resist arrest and fully cooperated with my men after he cut down the Imperials and we intervened. We're actually planning to let him go soon, since he was merely defending himself." 

Castor nodded and returned the bow. "Very well. I'll return to my allies and see how their inquiries have been proceeding. And I'll be certain to warn them that a potential captain could sell us out to the Imperials." 

He almost relished the thought: slaughtering the dogs of tyranny...Wait a moment.

"Actually, Lady Makoto, I think I have an idea."


	13. A Trap Sprung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: No actual catfish were harmed in the making of this chapter. Somewhere, however, someone is actually catching a catfish in the world. Just not me. Nobody's kicking one, either, or at least I hope not. 
> 
> Disclaimer v2: By trap, I don't mean that pretty girl over the-Wait, what? Oh, that's a guy, nvm.

The air of Azys Lla was heavy and unnatural, as it always was, and Severus tol Aurelius was glad to escape it as he boarded the  _Gration_. The vessel's repairs were coming along splendidly, he had to admit as he gazed upon the nearly complete structure. Technology taken from the Allagan ruins had proven to be their salvation, to say the least, especially the Fractal Continuum after Castor had cleared the place out for them. 

"Ah, you're here!" The engineers that had summoned him saluted from the terminal they stood over in the massive command center, and Severus made his way over to them. 

He walked the very steps Regula had, back when the man had still run the ship, but Severus pushed those thoughts from his mind as he paused before the saluting man and woman. 

"Report." 

"Yes, my lord! We have the transmitter almost fully functional, and the others have managed to fully patch together the feed they received!" The female engineer reported, her hands lowering to the terminal and flying over the keys. "The Allagan systems are awake and hacking into the Imperial signals, but it will take about a week or so before we have a foothold across the entirety of the Empire." 

Severus nodded slowly, drinking in the data scrolling across the gently glowing screen. "Excellent. And the feed, itself?" 

The other engineer nodded towards a table of to the side, holding the insectoid helmet of Regula van Hydrus, hooked up to the terminal with a thick mess of magitek and cords. "It's stable, sir. The engineers from the Sixth said that this was Lord Regula's last request, and that we're lucky Lord van Entialpoh left the helmet intact." 

Severus chuckled at that. "Lucky, indeed. Keep working at it, then."

The engineers saluted, and Severus strode away towards the raised dais containing more data feeds and the actual controls of the vessel. He paused before it, examining the readouts with an expert's eye. Systems were green across the board, save for a few minor details that could easily be fixed. Just a little while longer, and the  _Gration_  would be capable of leaving this accursed Allagan land behind. 

The Fourteenth was going to make a grand entrance in Gyr Abania, and Severus would hate to disappoint the Twelfth when they once again met upon the field of battle. 

Those bastards were going to be in for one hell of a surprise when Lord Castor returned. 

"You found passage with this Namazu creature," Tataru was saying slowly, her eyes narrowing, "and you didn't even try to barter with it?!" 

Dorgono scoffed. "It's better than nothing, is it not? And we don't have to pay until we board the vessel and safely depart in Othard." 

Well, there was the trap. All that had to be done was to spring it.

"Well done, at any rate," Castor shrugged. "So, we're to meet this catfish thing down by the docks at night to board its vessel?" 

Curious Gorge nodded, his expression faltering as Dorgono glared at him. "Y-yes. It said that it took Gosetsu and Yugiri across, and that it'd be more than willing to do the same for us." 

A lie, but Castor couldn't let them know, yet. If the Imperials had any suspicion that their quarry expected a trap, they might not strike, and Castor's efforts would be wasted. No, he'd leave his allies in the dark for now. 

"We'll have to keep our wits about us," Alphinaud warned. "After all, this may very well be a trap." 

"If it comes to blows, then we take the Namazu and run," Castor offered. "Interrogate it back here, if none of us get caught by the Sekiseigumi." 

Lyse nodded, pounding a fist into her open palm. "Leave grabbing the catfish thing to me!" 

"Gyodo, correct?" Castor looked to Dorgono, who nodded. "Given that the Namazu apparently have a less than stellar reputation, it would be prudent to prepare ourselves for a trap. Given that we have no other leads, however, it would be best to spring the trap awaiting us." 

At least Makoto had obtained permission for him to speak with Gosetsu, earlier. She'd sent word shortly after he'd returned to find Tataru arguing with Hancock about something. Since nobody else had finished their inquiries, he'd returned to the barracks to speak with the grizzled samurai. 

Gosetsu had been shocked to see him, to say the least, but that shock had yielded to joy upon learning that Castor and his allies had come to fight for Doma's liberation. The man had quickly explained the circumstances that had landed him in the hands of the Sekiseigumi: Gyodo's betrayal and the attack by the Imperial soldiers that had gotten the attention of every Sekiseigumi patrol in the city. The embassy was denying everything, of course, stating that those soldiers had been acting against orders, but dead men couldn't be disciplined, and the city couldn't legally take any recourse against the embassy throwing their own troops to the wolves. 

Pathetic worms, the lot of them. Castor had spied on the embassy, earlier, taking note of the guards standing outside the black gates and examining their Eastern-styled armor. The advanced fabrics and metals were clearly a step above what the legions were currently fielding in the West, as were the weapons, and Castor briefly considered stealing some of the uniforms to see if he could replicate the materials for his own soldiers. 

Gosetsu would be released shortly, perhaps sometime after nightfall, since apparently he had to win ten duels with the Sekiseigumi to earn his freedom, which worked perfectly as far as Castor was concerned. With luck, all the business with the Imperials would be finished, and perhaps he would have gained a bit of trust from the Sekiseigumi as well. 

"It appears that we have some time to kill before we meet Gyodo," Alphinaud mused. "I'm not sure about you, but I'm finding myself rather famished." 

Alisaie nodded agreement, as did Lyse. Dorgono huffed, but absently patted her stomach as it rumbled. Gorge just nodded enthusiastically, a grin on his lips. 

"Let's see what the markets have, then," Castor grunted. "They're right outside, after all." 

With that decided, the group, except Hancock and Tataru, filed out of the Ruby Bazaar offices and made their way down to the bustling Kogane Dori markets, splitting apart as this or that caught someone's eye. Castor hung by the small aethernet shard hovering by several of the colorful stalls, listening to a man hawking about a theater filled with dancers. 

Alphinaud and Alisaie were perusing the wares of a jewel merchant, absently studying the odd grimoires mixed amongst the jewelry while Lyse examined the weapon racks of another. 

Nobody, save for a perplexed Dorgono and Gorge, were actually looking at food items. Castor rolled his eyes but continued his silent vigil, gazing upon the crowds. He saw some black-clad Imperials shoving their way through the mass, disappearing over the bridge to the aetheryte plaza. 

Castor debated following them, but with nightfall fast approaching, he deduced that it would be best to remain here, by his friends. 

"Castor! You've got to try this!" Lyse came sidling up against him, offering some sort of sweet round treat impaled upon a wooden rod. "The merchant called it dango or something like that. It's really good!" 

To emphasize, she took a large bite from the sweet she held in her other hand, a look of sheer ecstasy overpowering her face as she sighed happily. Castor chuckled and accepted her offered treat, curiously nibbling upon one of the spheres. It was tangy, with a rather sweet aftertaste, and Castor took a larger bite and chewed it slowly. 

"Ish good, ishn't it?" Lyse giggled from his side with a full mouth before swallowing. "I like it!" 

He grinned at her. "It is, thanks."

Lyse nodded and leaned against him, a thoughtful look on her face as she, too, began watching the crowds. 

"So, you think it's a trap?" She asked after a few moments of silence.

Castor swallowed his bite of dango and looked down at his companion to see her brilliant eyes gazing back. "It's obvious, I'd think. Gyodo only offered to help after Dorgono told him they were looking for passage to Doma, and those Imperial troops I just saw shoving their way through the crowd certainly aren't proving me wrong." 

She nodded again, that thoughtful look on her face not fading as she held his gaze. 

"What's on your mind?" He asked softly, seeing the concern flickering within her irises. 

Lyse looked away, gazing across the golden sea at the setting sun lighting it ablaze. "You're going to think it's foolish..."

"You know me, Lyse," Castor nudged her playfully with his shoulder. "I've done things far more foolish than what you're thinking of." 

She elbowed him in the waist with a laugh before becoming serious again. "I...I can't help but feel guilty. Everyone back home... I don't know what they're dealing with while we've been stuck on a ship for almost a month."

"Hey," Castor reached down and tugged on her chin, drawing her eyes back to him. "We just have to have faith in our allies. With freeing Doma, we'll be able to divert the Empire's attention from Gyr Abania, and if we get lucky, we can force the Imperials to spread themselves thin fighting the fires we start." 

He leaned closer, ignoring the way his heart pounded as Lyse's face drew nearer and nearer. "Have faith in us; in me. We will free Ala Mhigo, I promise." 

Her eyes shone and an embarrassed smile curved her lips as her cheeks flushed. "Y-you're right...as always. And I'll always have faith in you, you know that!"

"I do, and words will never be able to express how grateful I am for your faith in me, especially during that debacle last year," the memories still burned, still stoked the flames of rage within the already screaming reactor of his heart. "I will forever be indebted to you, Lyse, and I will do anything to stay by your side." 

Her fluster intensified, and one of her hands reached up to rest upon his as she tugged it to her cheek. The flesh was soft and unbelievably warm under the fabric of the gloves, and Castor found himself smiling back at her. 

Gods, that smile of hers was intoxicating! 

"I feel the same way," she whispered, her face falling. "I never thought I would forgive myself for not being able to protect Papalymo, or for being unable to clear your fake charges. But...whenever I'm with you, like when we were adventuring together, just the two of us, I feel nothing but joy." 

"Lyse..." He wanted to take the pain from her eyes, to get rid of everything that was hurting her, but he couldn't. 

She had to push through that, herself, if she wanted to get stronger. That didn't mean that he couldn't help her, of course. 

Lyse shook her head slowly, then let go of his hand to return her gaze to the crowd. Thankfully, they hadn't been noticed, so Castor lowered his arm and did the same, watching the sun sink lower and lower as Lyse leaned against him. 

The air grew cooler as the great star slipped below the horizon, bathing the world in darkness and igniting the millions of glittering dots across the dark veil. Lanterns were lit across the city, bathing Kugane in a gentle glow, and Castor remained with Lyse on his side until the twins and the two Warriors strode over to join them, each smelling of some Eastern delicacy. 

Mostly fish or rice, Castor noted, but there was a lot more being offered. Perhaps those had just been the cheapest option? 

"It's almost time," Alphinaud said softly, as if afraid of being overheard. 

"Castor, Lyse: the two of you will be coming with me to settle the details with Gyodo while Alphinaud watches from afar," Alisaie began outlining the plan she had no doubt cooked up with her brother. "Dorgono and Gorge will-"

Castor gently pushed away from Lyse, and Alisaie trailed off as she scowled at him. 

"I know that look in your eyes," the white-haired girl growled. "You already have a plan, don't you?" 

Castor grinned. "My, how well you know me. I didn't think our time in the Coil had granted you such insight, same as Alphy."

Both twins paused, their faces falling ever so slightly as memories no doubt rose within them. 

"But, yes, I do already have a plan in place," Castor softened in his tone, letting them know that he hadn't meant to wound them. "It needs all of us present to work, so let's go meet Gyodo, shall we?" 

Somber nods all around, and Castor led the way down a flight of wooden stairs to the docks Gyodo had told them to meet him. They spread out, warily eyeing their surroundings and settling themselves in for a long wait. 

Before long, Castor heard the squelching of slick flesh waddling towards them, followed by the faint ringing of a bell, and the Namazu came into sight. He raised an eyebrow at the small creature, barely reaching up to his knees as its pudgy body wiggled towards him with each shuffling, waddling step. Wide, round eyes stared at him, and the catfish whiskers swayed with in time to its waddles. 

"So, this is Gyodo," Castor rumbled, pleased at how his deep, gravelly voice made the grey-skinned creature shudder. 

"Y-yes! Is this everyone seeking passage to Doma?" The poor Namazu was already quivering, doing its best to inch away from Castor. 

"We're all here," Dorgono answered smoothly, discreetly moving a hand towards her axe. 

This poor creature had no idea what was coming for it. Granted, his friends didn't, either, but that hardly mattered. 

"Ah! Good, good!" Gyodo rang the bell collared to his thick neck. "They're here! Come! Come!"

Castor sighed as black Imperials-the same ones he'd seen earlier- dashed out of hiding, leveling weapons at their 'prey'. 

"So sorry, friends, but it's just business!" Gyodo crooned, about to waddle out of the line of fire when Lyse streaked towards him, her scarlet-covered leg slamming into him with blinding speed. 

The Namazu spun into the air, shrieking, and Lyse snatched him on his descent and hauled the pudgy creature onto her shoulder. 

"Wooh! That felt good!" She grinned at Castor. "So, what do we do now?" 

Castor returned her grin and folded his arms before his chest, slowly surveying the startled Imperial troops standing before them. "Nothing."

Allies and foes alike balked, eyes falling upon the towering Au Ra. 

"You did not just say that," Alphinaud muttered. "Please tell me he did not just say that." 

Castor held up a hand to motion for silence, then extended three fingers. 

Two.

One. 

"Throw down your arms, now!" Sekiseigumi samurai swarmed out of nowhere, katanas drawn and gleaming as dozens surrounded the two groups. 

Makoto was immediately at Castor's side, leveling her blade at the stunned Imperials. "Soldiers of Garlemald, lower your weapons or be cut down! For threatening the peace of Kugane, you will face the judgement of the Sekiseigumi!"

"Damn hells, that stupid fish didn't say anything about the blasted samurai getting involved!" An Imperial officer growled. "We've been set up!" 

"Kill 'em! Samurai and rebels, alike!" Another ordered. "We can always say we caught the rebels fighting the samurai, but we were too late to save anyone!" 

They chose to fight, then? Such foolishness.  

"Fight, and you will be cut down!" Makoto warned, but the Imperials had made their choice. 

Pistols were pulled from holsters and aimed, right as Castor unsheathed his katana and lunged. The night air was shattered by the boom of firearms, the flaring of flame and smoke as bullets whizzed forward. 

Steel whispered and sang, followed by shrieking, and then Castor cut through everything in his path. He found himself standing behind the Imperials, the shattered halves of their bullets clattering to the ground. Their bodies followed shortly after, blood spattering across the cobblestones as the startled cries of the Imperial soldiers were silenced all at once. 

"You might think your Empire eternal, and your lives unable to be extinguished, but all that is born must pass away," Castor told the corpses as he slid his katana back into its scabbard. "And I will bring your Empire crashing down before my life comes to its conclusion." 

He didn't know where those words had come from, but they just felt right, somehow. 

"Again," Alisaie said drily.

Castor sighed. "Before my life comes to its conclusion  _again_." 

The samurai were all staring at him with wide-eyed expressions of awe, Makoto included. 

"Before you die again? Care to explain that?" Makoto finally broke the silence.

"It's... a long story, Lieutenant. Are you going to arrest me for drawing steel against the Imperials?" Castor was prepared to meet the consequences, if need be. 

Makoto shook her head. "You were defending yourselves, and since you drew steel to defend the Sekiseigumi as well, I think we'll forgive you." 

"You have my thanks," Castor nodded. "Now, do you want to interrogate the fish, or shall we?" 

Makoto shot the twitching, unconscious Gyodo a look of disgust. "We'll take him: his treachery has caused much blood to be spilled on Kugane's streets, and I would have him answer for every drop of it. Your friend, Gosetsu, will be set free, seeing as how he was also a victim of this Namazu's betrayal."

"Gosetsu?!" The cry burst from the twins almost in perfect unison. "He's here?!" 

Castor nodded. "Aye, he's in the Sekiseigumi barracks, winning his freedom. I've already met with him and explained what we were doing here, and he was quite pleased to hear of our plans." 

Alisaie shot him a seething stink eye. "You've already found and spoken with Gosetsu? And when, pray tell, were you going to tell us?" 

"Apologies: I had to keep you in the dark so the Imperials wouldn't get suspicious," Castor rolled his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the muscles. "And my plan worked flawlessly, did it not?" 

Alphinaud sighed. "It did..."

"Then there is nothing more to be said. Let us know when Gosetsu is ready to be released, and we'll come by the barracks to get him," Castor said to Makoto, who nodded, not seeming to mind being given orders by the legate. 

His mind drifted to his legion, but Castor knew Severus and Arya were more than capable of guiding the troops in his absence. And if Zenos showed up in Doma...it would not end the way it did in Rhalgr's Reach. 

Castor swore that with the very depths of his shattered soul. 

He paused as several samurai suddenly drew their katanas, turning to face the strange creature now approaching the party. 

It was another beastman: this one tall and humanoid, but with the green-fleshed body of a turtle, rounded shell and all. Three fingers tipped its hands, and thick toes tipped with claws clacked against stone. 

"Ah, my apologies!" The creature spoke, its mien similar to some designs Castor had seen on samurai helmets. "I mean no harm, I swear it!" 

Its beaked mouth didn't move as it spoke, bright eyes gleaming underneath its stiff facial features. How curious. 

"Ah, a Kojin!" Makoto relaxed, a warm smile crossing her lips. "Forgive us for being so tense, but we've just settled a dispute with some Imperial troops." 

The Kojin raised its hands in a gesture of peace. "No harm done! I pray I am not intruding." 

"What do you need?" Castor asked, fighting down a smirk as the Kojin balked before him. 

"By the kami, he's massive!" The beastman yelped, then paused, as if realizing how rude the words had sounded. "My apologies, sir! I've just never seen an Au Ra as large as yourself!" 

"You're not the only one," Castor chuckled. 

The Kojin nodded slowly, rubbing his helmet-like head with embarrassment. "My apologies, again. I...must admit that my reasons for approaching you are not entirely altruistic..."

"Oh? Speak, then," Castor crossed his arms before his chest, glaring down at the beastman. 

"I saw you talking to Hancock, earlier, and I overheard you talking about how you need passage across the Ruby Sea," the Kojin spoke hesitantly, as if afraid of offending the group further.

"So, what, you want us to help you arrange some kind of trade deal with Hancock in return for passage to Othard?" Castor guessed, already seeing the merchant in this creature. 

The beastman flinched. "Ah, that obvious, was it? I apologize if I appear as if I am taking advantage of your circumstances-"

"It's a deal, my friend," Castor waved him off. "What is your name?" 

The Kojin started, clearly not expecting such an easy answer. "S-Soroban, my friend! You'll truly speak to Hancock on my behalf?" 

"I will, if you still plan to offer us your aid in crossing the Ruby Sea," Castor nodded. "You can come with us back to the Ruby Bazaar while we wait for Gosetsu to be released."  

Soroban beamed-or what Castor assumed was him beaming- and nodded enthusiastically. "Thank you, my friend! I'll gladly go with you!" 

"Then let us be off." 

Yugiri's crystal hummed softly against her neck, buzzing with warmth against her scaled flesh once again. She scowled down at the crystal and stuffed it further into her armor, praying that it hadn't given her away. 

The Imperials she'd been stalking were none the wiser, thank the kami, continuing their patrol towards the old manor populated by friendly Namazu. She crept after them, carefully eyeing the creatures and foul spirits that roamed the land as she tailed her prey. 

Why had this crystal become so active as of late? Yugiri was careful to keep the pendant from slipping out of its hiding spot as it hummed again, though the noise was lost to the cries of one creature or another. It only reacted like this whenever Castor was nearby and enduring some great agony that his soul, alone, could not fully tolerate. 

She wondered if it was some sort of aftereffect of his clash with Zenos, since his soul had literally been split in half as a result of that fight. He had to be back in Eorzea, fighting for Ala Mhigo...right? 

The Imperials paused, and Yugiri froze in her tracks. 

"What was that noise?" The decanus barked, and weapons were drawn by the patrol. 

Yugiri held her breath, silently cursing the crystal hanging from her neck and praying to whatever kami were listening that the screeching beast had camouflaged her.

The tension in the air was electric as the Imperials' heads swiveled about, scanning for an unseen threat while Yugiri stayed stock still. 

Undergrowth rustled, immediately drawing alarmed shouts from the Imperials, but Yugiri's heart eased its frantic palpitations as a bird shot out of the foliage and vanished into the dark skies. 

"Just a damned bird," the Imperials relaxed almost instantly, a few snorting as they sheathed their weapons.

"Like anyone in this backwater province has the guts to stand against us," another growled, and Yugiri bit down on the hot spike of rage that churned within her breast. 

The decanus turned to the man who'd spoken. "Don't be so foolish: we're out here because of the damned rebels! Keep your eyes peeled and ears alert!" 

A professional, then, rather than the usual conscript forced into service oppressing Doma's masses. If only more Imperials were like the legionnaires of the Fourteenth...

Yugiri gingerly palmed the crystal adorning her neck, inhaling softly as the hole that had opened within her heart since leaving Castor's side filled ever so slightly. To feel his warmth...his powerful body and soul at her side again... The thought made her sigh, the noise quickly being lost to the wind and the clanking Imperials. 

_Oh, Castor...what horrors are you enduring now, away from my side?_

Yugiri shook her head, berating her errant thoughts before stalking after her prey once again. 


	14. Blood on The Stones

Well, here we go again, Castor mused as he roamed through Kugane after dark, passing by the docks he'd fought the Imperials by earlier, and marveled at how silent the city was in the dead of night. Few roamed the streets, save for the patrolling Sekiseigumi, but Castor had yet to spot the man he sought. 

Captain Kongo had vanished from the barracks, apparently having found a lead he wished to investigate. The Tairo was going to visit soon, Makoto had revealed, and the entire Sekiseigumi was on high alert. It would present Ugetsu with the perfect opportunity to murder the Tairo and plunge the bakufu into chaos, so security had tightened considerably. 

"Well?" Castor mused to himself as he paused by the hot springs. "Where is he?" 

Think...think! 

The tangy, metallic scent of blood wafted against his nostrils, and Castor froze on the spot. It was fresh, too fresh to be the Imperials he'd slaughtered, and Castor inhaled deeply. He followed the trail, keeping the scent strong, until he came to a small dock built onto the canal. Dark blood was spattered across the boards, as well as the tell-tale markings of a sharp blade. 

Something gleamed amongst the scarlet, and Castor knelt. His fingers sought the object and closed around a small wooden charm that was coated with blood. 

"Makoto might know what to make of this," he decided, noting how the cord holding the charm had been cut cleanly in half. 

Palming the charm, Castor retraced his steps back to the Sekiseigumi barracks, nodding politely to the guards on duty. Both men were holding lanterns to ward off the darkness, as the thin sliver of the moon was providing minimal light to the city. It was pleasantly warm, and Castor wondered how his allies were sleeping as the salty scent of the sea mingled with the lingering vestiges of the city's day life.

"Sir Castor!" Makoto was standing before a collection of Sekiseigumi, visibly distraught as she twisted the folds of her jacket. "I have just received terrible news! Captain Kongo has committed seppuku over his failure to catch the insurgents!"

Suicide? Was that why Castor had found so much blood at the docks? 

"Where?" He had to be certain. 

"In his chambers," Makoto said softly, her voice hoarse. "I couldn't see him, but Shiden confirmed that it was the captain."

"Gods...I'm so sorry," Castor shook his head slowly. "But, I came across a bunch of blood on one of the docks, along with this." 

He held out the bloodstained amulet, and Makoto's eyes widened as she snatched it from his hands. 

"This is the captain's!" she exclaimed, frowning as she examined the blood caking the wood. "But...by the docks? What..."

"I think Shiden might have been lying," Castor scowled. "Where is he stationed?" 

"By the Thavnairian Consulate, boosting security for the Tairo's visit," Makoto's eyes hardened as she clenched the amulet. "With me, Castor."

He nodded. "My blade is yours." 

The two samurai dashed out of the barracks, feet clacking against stone with every step. Castor's longer gait easily outpaced Makoto's, and he hauled the short samurai woman into his arms. Makoto yelped in surprise but quickly composed herself, her strong hands closing around his arm for support as she held on. 

"Sorry about that, but I didn't want to leave you behind," Castor offered as he flew past the Ruby Bazaar offices, startling the dozing Brass Blade guard and sending the man onto his rear. 

"All is forgiven, friend! Let us hope we are not too late!" Makoto replied, her scabbard bouncing against Castor's side. 

He dashed past the Imperial Embassy, drawing annoyed looks from the two black and gold sentries, and quickly halted before the elegant, well-crafted building hosting the Thavnairian Consulate. He let Makoto down as the several Sekiseigumi blades stared at him in alarm alongside the Consulate's own guards.

"Lady Makoto? Sir Castor?" A rather baby-faced Blade stepped forward. "What's the issue?" 

"Where is Shiden?" Makoto demanded, smoothing her jacket. 

"The Tairo is at the Sanjo Hanmachi," the samurai stammered. "Shiden went to look over security." 

"The Tairo's already here?!" Makoto jolted. "Why was I not informed?!" 

The samurai hesitated. "He is here for a more...personal visit, Lieutenant." 

"Isn't that the pleasure house?" Castor frowned. 

Makoto nodded grimly. "And it's right back the way we came, next to the barracks." 

Castor sighed. "Alright. Want me to carry you over?" 

The other Blades stared at him, eyes widening. 

Makoto opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated as her eyes lit up with an idea. "Yes, but only part of the way. I want to approach Shiden alone, with you watching in the shadows."

"I like how you think," Castor nodded. "Very well: I'll stop near the barracks so you can approach Shiden alone. But I will be watching, closely." 

Makoto nodded, stepping closer and steeling her expression. "I'm ready." 

Castor gently hauled the tiny samurai into his arm, making sure she was comfortable before dashing forward. 

Makoto's vision swam a bit from being transported so quickly, but she shook her head to clear it. Kami, it had been embarrassing when Sir Castor had scooped her into his arms as if she weighed nothing and carried her like one would a child, but she admitted that it worked. As she hurried towards the pleasure house, well aware of Castor's powerful gaze burning into the back of her head as he shadowed her, she prayed to any Kami who was listening that she wasn't too late.

The Kami were truly merciful: Shiden was striding slowly, purposefully towards the doors that led to the Tairo, his katana glinting in the torchlight. 

"Shiden!" Makoto kept a hand close to her own blade as the Blade halted. "Why do you draw steel when approaching the doors? Aren't there enough guards for the Tairo inside?"

Shiden went stock still, his sword lowering just slightly. "You were always too loyal for your own good. How did you figure it out?" 

"You left the captain's amulet at the docks where you'd assaulted him, and the guards at the Thavnairian Consulate told me where the Tairo was," Makoto answered. "You left too many clues in your wake, traitor." 

Shiden chuckled, turning slowly. "I underestimated you, but you won't stop me." 

Footsteps-a score or more- echoed behind her, and Makoto turned to see a dozen Sekiseigumi blades rushing forward. Her heart eased: reinforcements!

"My friends!" She called out as the blades halted. 

The cold looks in their eyes made her lungs shrivel up. 

"The Tairo's inside, and all we have to do is kill him," Shiden announced, and the traitor blades drew their katanas. "Get rid of Makoto: we'll say she died defending the Tairo from assassins." 

Makoto gripped her blade and pulled it free, the weight a comfort to her heart as she gripped the rough hilt in both hands. 

Shiden smirked. "You truly mean to fight? Alone? Your little pet Ijin samurai-"

The air shifted, drawing Makoto's gaze back to the traitors behind her, and a wall of pure force slammed into them from the side. Bones crunched and stone cracked as several of them went flying, smacking into stone buildings or streets and lying in broken heaps. 

"I'm nobody's pet, mongrel," Castor's deep rattle shook the air as he strode lazily out of the shadows, his katana gleaming in the one hand he held it in. "All I am is your death." 

"Kill him! He's just one man!" Shiden roared at the balking samurai, and Makoto's instincts went into overdrive. 

The traitor lunged at her, blade a silver blur screaming for her blood as it streaked forward. She saw the feint he was attempting, ignored it and thrust her blade forward in one of her own. 

Shiden parried her strike, a snarl on his lips as steel met steel. His strength made her arms tremble, but she jumped back to avoid a contest. Steel parted flesh behind her, and even Shiden paused to gaze with wide-eyed horror at the scene unfolding as Makoto stole a glance.

Several of the surviving traitor Blades had attempted to swarm Castor at once, only be cut down all at once. The last three lunged, leaping over their comrades' falling bodies, but Castor swung once, his blade gouging his attackers from the air. The traitors fell with heavy thuds, leaking blood as they went still, their souls awaiting the final judgement of the kami. 

"W-what are you?" Shiden gasped as Castor strode slowly, lazily forward, his blade dripping scarlet and leaving red spatters upon the stone in his wake.

"Treachery will be punished," he growled, golden eyes blazing. "Makoto, are you okay?" 

Just as before, with the Imperials, Castor was unrivaled with a blade, and his strength was inhuman. Over a dozen men cut down in a matter of seconds, without even landing a scratch on the towering Au Ra now striding towards a trembling Shiden. 

"I'm fine, Castor," she leveled her blade at Shiden. "Surrender: you cannot win." 

Shiden's wide eyes never left Castor, the fear gleaming within those irises a reflection of scarlet light. "What kind of monster are you?" 

"One that was forged by the Empire and the Eorzean Alliance," Castor replied softly, dangerously. "I am the monster that exists because the world needs me to." 

"Makoto!" A familiar voice pierced her ears, sending spikes of alarm through her heart as she spun to see Captain Kongo dashing forward with the remaining Sekiseigumi blades in tow. 

"Kongo?!" Shiden yelped. "I killed you!" 

Kongo's eyes burned with rage as he stomped forward, surveying the dead blades and Castor striding towards Shiden and Makoto. "Sir Castor, I must apologize for being so rude to you earlier. I saw everything." 

Castor glanced over his shoulder at the man, keeping one eye on Shiden. "It's fine, sir. I don't blame you for being cautious." 

The heavy weight that had settled upon Makoto's heart since hearing of her captain's uncharacteristic suicide lifted, and she inhaled deeply to fill lungs that were no longer constricted by shame and guilt. 

"Thank the kami," she whispered before steeling herself. "Shiden, you cannot escape." 

He knew it: she could see the gleam of lost hope within those wide eyes, frowning as determination hardened the irises. 

"You'll never take me!" Shiden lifted his sword and plunged it into his own heart, choking before he fell to never move again.

"He was either a coward or a genius," Castor lamented as he strode forward to stand at Makoto's side, gazing down at Shiden's corpse. "Either way, we will get no answers from him, now." 

He sheathed his katana and glanced over his shoulder at the other corpses. "Or them, either. Perhaps I should have held back a bit." 

Makoto exhaled, releasing the tension she'd been carrying as she sheathed her blade. "The Tairo is safe, albeit indulging in rather unprofessional desires, so our duty has been carried out. Ugetsu lost many of his most skilled fighters this night; it will be a difficult blow to recover from." 

"As you say," Castor nodded. "Let us hope that will be the end of tonight's bloodshed. I grow weary of killing." 

Makoto gave him a tired smile. "Forgive me for asking so much of you in such a short time, my friend. First it was the Imperials, and now it was Ugetsu's men." 

"And the two rebels from before," Castor wiped his blade clean on one of the corpses before sheathing it, but he had a distant, unfocused gaze. "I'll remain to lend a hand in disposing of the corpses." 

"No, my honored friend," Captain Kongo stepped forward. "You have done so much good for Kugane this night. Please, return to your friends and rest: you've earned it." 

Castor stared at the man as if rest was a foreign concept before slowly nodding. "If you're certain you will not need my aid, I shall retire for the night. Should anything else crop up, you know where to find me." 

Kongo nodded, then sank to his knees and prostrated himself before Castor. "Castor, Makoto, I pray you will both forgive me for doubting you. Without the two of you, the Tairo could have very well died this night, and Hingashi would no doubt be plunged into another Age of Blood. Thank you, truly." 

Makoto took a moment to compose herself-to think that Captain Kongo would be showing such respect to her! "C-Captain! You do not need to-"

"I do! I doubted both of you and would have doomed all of Hingashi!" Kongo shouted, pressing his forehead to the ground. 

"Rise, Captain," Castor spoke softly, but radiated such authority that Makoto had to fight down the desire to kneel just so she could obey his command. "You treat me as if I am a hero. Makoto is the hero here, not I."

The golden-haired Au Ra turned his back upon the samurai and the cooling corpse of Shiden, his footsteps almost silent as he strode away.

"I am only a weapon. A monster." 

Castor didn't sleep well: the void that usually swallowed up his dreams had yielded to visions of blood and death, filling the night with carnage that hacked his heart and soul to pieces. Zenos lorded over the wastelands of fire and desecrated ruins, his damning voice filling every nook and cranny as the laughing monstrosity dragged Lyse and Yugiri forward by their heads, smearing their blood across the wastes. 

"You cannot save them, beast," the crown prince purred, the manic light in his eyes a reflection of Castor. "Embrace me! Our purpose! Our hatred!"

Zenos morphed into Castor's twin, splitting into Fray and Myste with each holding one of the women in their grasp. 

"Serve, save, slave, slay," 'Fray' rasped, darkness spewing from his maw and scarlet hatred burning within his eyes. "How much longer must we be another's weapon? Does our life matter so little, Castor? Are we not worthy of living as more than just a pathetic slave?!"

Yugiri screamed in his grasp, her eyes tight with agonizing pain as she desperately reached out to Castor. "Castor! Please!"

"We have ruined her life, just as we have ruined so many others," Myste lamented, the sorrow radiating from him bleeding into Lyse. "Why do we continue to drown this world with sorrow, Castor? Why do we continue to destroy the hopes and dreams of those around us?"

"Why?!" Lyse screamed, tears coursing down her agonized face. "Why did you have to kill my father and sister, Castor?! I trusted you! I loved you!"

The darkness turned red, and the hook of anger that roared through Castor's heart bubbled up with agonizing heat. 

"Enough! I control you! You do not control me!" He roared, and Deathbringer appeared in his hands. "Now SHUT UP!" 

His body moved on its own, swinging the massive black blade at the figures standing before him. 

Fray and Myste were gone, but the two women were standing in their place, eyes wide with horror as the rippling scarlet aftermath of Deathbringer's strike spewed from their chests.

"Cas...tor," Yugiri choked, blood gushing from her mouth. "W-why?" 

"Murderer," Lyse whispered, that word echoing through the void as a damning clarion call. "Murderer."

The wastes opened beneath his feet, opened into a massive chasm filled with thousands upon thousands of corpses from all the races this world held.

"Murderer!"

"Monster!" 

"Traitor!" 

The dead were screaming. His sins were all laid out before him, covered in their own blood and gore as ravaged, empty eyes turned to gaze up at the herald of death. 

"Join us!"

"Join us!"

"Murderer!" Yda and Curtis were embracing Lyse's bleeding corpse, dead lips twisted into cruel smiles as they chanted the word again and again. "Murderer!" 

They were coming for him: emaciated and torn limbs snapping as the dead crawled up the gorge walls to Castor, their cracked, bloodstained fingers extended, reaching, reaching. 

Yugiri reached him first, her beautiful face serene as the wound on her chest emptied out every last drop of life she had onto the corpses beneath her. 

"Castor..." Her loving voice purred as her hands came to rest upon his face, drawing them closer together. "Castor..." 

Countless scabby and gnarled fingers closed around his limbs, shattered arms wrapping around his torso and lifting him into the tide of writhing, desecrated corpses. Pressing him against Yugiri's soaked body and bathing him in her blood.

"Castor..." Yugiri's lips ghosted across his throat, her dead eyes lighting up. "Castor!"

And then the woman opened her mouth wide to reveal razor sharp teeth, clamping down onto his throat and tearing it open.

"Castor!" 

His eyes opened, filling his vision with Lyse's extremely worried face. He lifted a hand to his throat, half expecting to find it ripped apart, but cold scales met with the flesh of his fingers, instead. 

"Are you alright?" Lyse asked, reaching down and wrapping his hand with hers. "You're really pale." 

A nightmare...how pathetic. The Warrior of Twilight, getting gods-damned night terrors!

"Lyse," he murmured her name, knew that he didn't deserve the love she held for him.

Not after everything he'd done to her. She deserved so much better. 

"Castor, are you alright?" She repeated herself softly, interlacing their fingers. "You're cold and clammy." 

"I'm fine, just some unpleasant memories," Castor pushed himself to rise, making the plush covers fall away from his chest. 

At least the Ruby Bazaar had some Western-styled beds, unlike the tatami mats that the Bokairo Inn offered its patrons. Much more comfortable. 

"Do you...want to talk about it?" Lyse asked softly, worry shininng in her eyes. 

"There's nothing to talk about," Castor shook his head and noted the sunlight shimmering from a window in the hall outside his quarters. "How long have I been out?" 

"It's a couple hours past sunrise," Lyse answered. "Soroban's getting his boat ready, and he said he'd send a messenger when he was ready." 

Castor nodded. "And Gosetsu?" 

Right as he asked, he heard the samurai's heavy gait tromping towards his quarters, cloth rustling and metal clinking softly with each step. 

"Ah, Castor, my friend!" Gosetsu's boisterous voice sent knives through his ears. "You were not yet awakened? Doma calls to us!" 

The samurai grinned shamelessly as he stood in the doorway, eyes glittering with joy and anticipation. 

"That answers that," Castor swung his legs out of the covers and rose, once more encasing his body with his armor. "Everyone else waiting?"

Lyse nodded. "Tataru and Alphinaud are going to be staying here, since we need a couple people running things in Kugane. Everyone else is going with Soroban." 

"Good," Castor strode past her and Gosetsu, both quickly falling into step behind him as he made his way to the main offices.

Alphinaud and the others were already there, the boy sporting a rather sour expression as all eyes were drawn to Castor. 

"Ah, Castor, you're awake," Alisaie mused. "I trust you finally managed to get some rest for once in your life?" 

Castor snorted but responded with a nod. "Where are Gorge and Dorgono?" 

"In the markets, getting some more supplies for us," Tataru announced. "Turns out that Dorgono terrifies the storekeepers into giving her a discount! With only a look! Neat, right?" 

Castor sighed and rubbed his temples. "Why am I not surprised? And here I thought they'd be more scared of Gorge and his giant axe." 

"Gorge runs damage control, not that it's very successful," Alphinaud grumbled. "I must admit that, while I detest the idea of staying here while you cross the Ruby Sea, it would be best if we kept our numbers as small as possible." 

"Indeed. So, we wait for Dorgono, Gorge, and Soroban to return?" Castor crossed his arms before his chest, well aware of Lyse's presence at his side. 

"Which should be soon," Alisaie mimicked the gesture, a thoughtful expression upon her lips. 

Huh, perhaps she'd picked up more from Castor during their struggles together than he'd thought. 

Footsteps reached his ears, and as if on cue, Dorgono and Gorge pushed their way into the offices, the Roegadyn's arms laden with satchels of food whose scent slithered into Castor's nostrils. 

"This should be everything," Dorgono's eyes were bright with anticipation as she hurriedly passed the satchels out. "Gorge proved useful in helping me haggle." 

Castor nodded, taking note of how the woman called Gorge by his name rather than just insulting him. "Well done. All that's left now is-"

Soroban strode into the offices, raising his arm in greeting. "Good morning, my friends! I am ready to leave when you are!" 

"Perfect timing," Castor commented. "And a pleasant morning to you as well." 

He meant to speak more, but Dorgono stomped towards him and jabbed his chest with a powerful finger.

"And you have an explanation to give!" She declared, her eyes narrowed. "Why is it that the talk of the city is of a mysterious foreign samurai who aided the Sekiseigumi in preventing the Tairo's assassination?"

Castor frowned. How the hells had anyone managed to spread word of that? Makoto and Kongo would have kept the situation under tight wraps. 

"Assassination?" Alisaie's eyes sparkled with mischief as Castor shot her a glare. "Do tell!" 

Dorgono smiled wickedly. "Stories have been flying all over Kugane that someone named Ugetsu has been attempting to overthrow the bakufu, and half of the Sekiseigumi betrayed them in an attempt to murder the Tairo. Word is: a lieutenant of the loyal Sekiseigumi was surrounded by the traitors, sword drawn and ready to fight to the last defending the Tairo when a foreign golden-haired samurai, dressed in grey, came out of nowhere and cut down the traitors with but a few strokes."

All eyes turned to Castor. 

"This unknown samurai sent half the traitors flying with one swing and cut down the rest without even breaking a sweat," Dorgono announced, her devilish grin never fading. "And the leader of the traitors turned his sword upon himself rather than face the foreigner." 

Gorge coughed nervously, drawing the gazes of his allies. "Well, that's one of the versions being told. Another is that Castor plunged into the fray, hauled the lieutenant onto his shoulder, and single-handedly rescued the Tairo from the traitors." 

"While carrying Makoto?" Alisaie asked drily, a wicked grin of her own forming as she shot Castor an amused look. "And which, pray tell, is the real version?" 

"Dorgono's," Castor sighed, giving in. "But how the hells did the rest of the city hear of it? Makoto and Captain Kongo would have kept everything quiet." 

"Apparently, one of the workers in the pleasure house was on break when she witnessed the entire thing," Dorgono answered. 

"The Tairo had been ferried out of the city faster than an Ul'dahn merchant from a bank," Hancock strode in, his insufferable grin gleaming. "Apparently, he hadn't been given the chance to put his kimono on and was only wrapped in a towel as he was forced to leave without paying his escort." 

Castor rolled his eyes. "What a shame. I assume you want me to put on some sort of disguise so we don't draw any attention to ourselves?" 

And then he heard the clicking of sandals alongside the clinking of a katana as someone else entered the offices. 

"Pardon me, but is Sir Castor here?" Makoto's voice asked.

"Might I ask who is calling for him?" The secretary responded with a polite, somewhat forced patience. 

"Makoto of the Sekiseigumi," the lieutenant replied. "I must speak with him." 

Hancock pried the doors open. "It's fine: let her in." 

Makoto had jumped upon the merchant's sudden appearance, but her eyes had locked onto Castor immediately. She shoved her way past him, not even waiting for the secretary's response. 

"Castor, you must come with me, now," she urged, grabbing his arm. "No doubt you've heard?" 

"Yeah: a worker from the pleasure house saw our fight with Shiden and now the story's all over the city." 

Hancock gave an impressed whistle. "Warrior of Light, indeed! You're not even in Kugane for a day and you already rescue the most important figure in Hingashi from assassination!" 

"Shut it!" Castor hissed, making the merchant step back in alarm. "If anyone hears you calling me that and starts spreading word that the Warrior of Light is not in Eorzea..." 

"The Empire would be quick to take advantage of it," Alphinaud finished the thought. 

Hancock snorted. "Please, like the Twelfth Legion is going to dare strike against the Fourteenth. Your soldiers,  _Legate_ , have been wreaking havoc on Zenos' forces all over Gyr Abania since you departed, nearly wiping out an entire cohort that had been mustering to invade the Wall." 

A cold smile tugged at Castor's lips as pride bubbled up within his breast. "So, they've been keeping Garlemald's slaves in line, eh?"

"And they've been hacking into Imperial broadcasts all over the Empire," Hancock continued. "Nobody knows how the hells they've been managing to do it, but the Imperials have been unable to shield themselves." 

Hacking? 

"They must have upgraded the  _Gration_ 's transmitters with Allagan tech," Castor frowned, drawing up possible scenarios and reasons, but coming up empty. "What have they been doing with the hacks?" 

Hancock shrugged. "Not much: running tests and terrifying Garlemald. They've bypassed every single Imperial attempt to block or eradicate the signals, going so far as to reactivate the transmitters that had been shut off to silence them." 

Castor paused as he pictured the Fourteenth's brightest engineers sitting before consoles, watching with amused grins as the Imperials attempted to shut down the signals. And then a grin formed on his lips as he pictured Severus and a poor Imperial officer locked in a technological duel as the screens before them were repeatedly shut down and reactivated by their respective owners. 

"It's resulted in the Imperials breaking many transmitters out of desperation," Hancock snickered, no doubt picturing something similar. "But your hackers always manage to track down more." 

Makoto tugged on his arm. "Castor!" 

Oh, right. 

"Go down to the docks, I'll join you as soon as I can," Castor said to his allies before allowing Makoto to lead him out of the offices. "What needs to be done?" 

He could hear the storm of chatter coming from the markets, hear the stories already spreading about what had happened in the dead of night. 

 "We aren't sure: the tales have already spread to the entirety of Kugane, and by now there won't be a single soul who hasn't heard one version or the other," Makoto kept her pace rapid, her eyes scanning everybody who entered her line of sight. 

"Is that him?"

"The golden-haired samurai!" 

"It is him!"

Whispers and calls immediately began following them around, but Castor did his best to ignore it until the two samurai were finally sequestered within the Sekiseigumi barracks. Unfortunately, there were several important-looking men in fine kimonos arguing with Kongo, and all of them turned the moment they heard the approaching footsteps. 

Makoto faltered, a faint curse escaping her lips. 

"Ah, is this him?" One of the men stepped closer, and Castor could detect a faint gleam of fear in his dark eyes. "He certainly matches the description: a golden-haired Auri samurai wearing a grey duster." 

"By the kami, he's massive," one of the others whispered. "It appears that there is merit behind that woman's words after all." 

"Agreed. A man of that size and strength would easily be able to overpower a dozen unprepared opponents," a third nodded.  

"The stories are true: that is the man responsible for wiping out Ugetsu's agents and saving the Tairo's life," Kongo sighed after what appeared to be a fierce internal debate. "I witnessed the entire scene, myself, as I was rushing to my lieutenant's side with reinforcements. Alas, I was too late, and arrived just in time to watch the agents' leader turn his blade upon himself." 

The dignitaries murmured amongst themselves, awed expressions on their faces as they examined the towering Au Ra. 

"The captain of the Sekiseigumi admits it!" One man announced. "You, foreigner, what is your name?" 

Castor kept his face neutral, despite the annoyance filling his heart as he gazed down at the simpering noblemen. "Castor, as you may have heard Captain Kongo state already. I traveled here to lend my strength in combating any foes that arise." 

"Well, all of Hingashi owes you a debt, Castor," the same man bowed low, his fellows following suit. "And our lord does not forget his debts, especially one so personal." 

Castor waved them off. "There is no need for that: I am merely fulfilling what it is I came here to do. You and yours owe me nothing." 

The men shared surprised looks with one another: no doubt they had been expecting Castor to be loud and arrogant, boasting of his strength and his feats and demanding accolades to accompany them. He could sense no malevolence within any of them, so perhaps they were all genuine?

"Such honor!" One dignitary commented, admiration in his voice. "You carry yourself as a true samurai, Sir Castor." 

Castor honed in on the speaker: an older man with the beginnings of gray in his dark hair, which had been tied back into a samurai's knot. A warrior: Castor could see the muscles under the man's kimono, the way he observed everything with a veteran's patience. 

"My master would be insulted if I did not," Musosai was still a pariah in these lands, so Castor had to be careful of what he said. 

"Your master?" 

Castor nodded. "A wandering samurai calling himself Kogarashi trained me in the arts of the samurai, desiring a pupil in which to place his knowledge." 

The men's eyes widened. "Kogarashi?! He vanished years ago...to think that he'd been traveling the Western lands all this time." 

"Where is he now?" 

"He died, having forced his old body too far as we were fighting some notorious brigands," Castor replied, noting how their faces fell. "We traveled across Eorzea, from the frozen wastes of Coerthas to the deserts of Thanalan in the south, dealing justice to those who deserved it." 

"He died as a true samurai," Makoto said softly. "I saw his grave, when I went to Eorzea to find Master Kogarashi." 

The men nodded slowly. The veteran bowed his head for a moment before turning back to Castor. 

"What do you plan on doing now?" He asked, eyes critical. "Ugetsu will not take lightly to this humiliation. Hundreds of samurai all across Hingashi have flocked to his banner, as have people who feel trodden upon by the bakufu, and he has no small number of insurgents willing to infiltrate our cities." 

"I will fight his excursions when they show up," Castor replied vaguely, wondering how they would respond to him leaving for Doma.

The dignitaries nodded grimly, and then Makoto nudged his arm to get his attention. 

"I believe we’ve held you up long enough," she nodded towards the gates.

Castor nodded in turn and bowed to the dignitaries before leaving at Makoto's side, their katanas clinking at their waists. 

"How many of them do you think were Ugetsu's spies?" He asked once they were far away from the barracks. 

Makoto gave him a strange look. "I don't believe any of them were, Castor: all of those men serve the Tairo, directly." 

"A perfect place for a spy or a traitor," Castor replied. "But, I didn't sense any hint of treachery within them, so I concur with your judgement." 

"Sense treachery?" Makoto frowned. "You can do such a thing?" 

He shrugged. "I can sense people's hearts, what lies within, thanks to the eikons I've absorbed and my own magical prowess. It's not too specific, but it can be useful." 

"If only I had that ability," Makoto murmured, guilt etching her fair features. "If I'd known about Shiden..." 

Castor gently placed a hand upon the woman's tiny shoulder. "We stopped him, together, and the Tairo still lives." 

She smiled at him, yet he could still sense a heavy burden upon her heart. "Thank you, my friend. You're leaving for Doma, aren't you?" 

"I am," he nodded. 

"Take care when dealing with the Confederacy," Makoto warned, clasping Castor's hand in hers. "They can be an unpredictable bunch, especially with the Imperials and Red Kojin roaming the Ruby Seas." 

Castor nodded. "I shall do so. Any advice?" 

Her expression soured. "Pay the Ruby Tithe, and the Confederacy will leave you alone. I dislike the idea of paying common pirates for protection, but their fleet is powerful and their numbers vast. They've managed to control the entire Ruby Sea for a long time, and even the Empire doesn't want to openly engage them." 

"I could turn the Ruby Seas into their graves, but I get the feeling we'll need them alive," Castor shrugged. "Besides, it would be too much effort to kill every single pirate roaming those seas." 

Makoto nodded grimly. "Nonetheless, please be careful. Might I be able to contact you on your journey?" 

Castor offered a linkpearl, which Makoto quickly tucked away into her robes. "This will allow us to stay in touch. Don't hesitate to contact me should something arise: I can teleport back here thanks to that aetheryte." 

"Thank you, my friend, for everything," Makoto bowed low, Castor doing the same.

"I should be thanking you for aiding us in travelling here," he replied. 

_We would have found a way. We do not need to thank this wench, who only dragged us into service for yet another gods-damned nation. We do not need her._

_We can kill them all._

Castor fought down the anger surging through his breast and parted ways with Makoto, heading down to where he could see Soroban's boat at the docks. 

People whispered and pointed, looks of awe following every step he took. Voices called out to him, but he ignored every one of them. It was just like any other damn place. 


	15. Red Seas, Red Words

The Ruby Sea took Lyse's breath away from her, ensnaring her attention as if it were all one great trap. The blue-green waters extended to the very horizons, dotted by islands of green and brown. 

"Hey, we're done negotiating," Castor strode over, his duster billowing in the salty breeze that coasted over the Ruby Price. "Soroban's getting the boat ready to take us over to that island so that we might pay this accursed Ruby Tithe." 

Lyse looked across the stretch of water at the island that menaced the Ruby Price, covered by wooden structures built by the Confederates. Perhaps it would be fun to swim the distance? 

Lyse reached over and grabbed his gloved hand. "Hey! Let's swim to the island! Get our muscles warmed up!" 

Castor pursed his lips thoughtfully as he gauged the distance, his mouth then curving into an impish grin. "Seems doable. Shall we have a race?" 

"You're on!" Lyse dashed to the ramparts of the Price, carefully avoiding the many black cannon mouths aimed at the island as she perched on the stone. 

"Bring it," Castor chuckled as he took up position at her side, his hair tail swaying as another warm, salty breeze roamed over the sea. 

The sun was warm, rays sinking into her body as the wind gently kissed her face and exposed flesh. It felt like Gridania, almost, despite the smell of the sea filling her nostrils. 

Lyse dove towards the sea at the same time as Castor, the beautiful blue-green surface filling her vision as she plunged into the warm waters. Her body knifed through the sea, leaving a trail of bubbles in her wake as she pushed forward. It wasn't too deep: she could see the sandy bottom well enough as she pushed her battle-hardened body through the clear water. 

It was so quiet, so beautiful. The beams of sunlight trickling through the surface filled the expanse with columns of gold and Lyse fought down the sorrow that threatened her heart as an image of Gridania flickered before her sight. As Papalymo flashed before her eyes. 

Her lungs began to burn, warning her of her depleting oxygen, and Lyse glanced around for Castor. He was nowhere in sight, and the fear that he was already ahead of her pushed her even quicker to the onrushing surface. 

Lyse burst through the watery veil, gulping down the wondrous salt-tinged air as she treaded water. Her hair hung heavily, as did her clothes, weighing her down as she looked about the glassy surface. 

"Castor?" She bobbed on the surface, kicking her legs to keep her head above the water as she swiveled this way and that. 

The island was significantly closer, and she spotted Soroban's boat, with their friends aboard, departing from the Ruby Price. At least she might beat them!

But, where was-

Powerful, clammy digits closed around Lyse's ankles, her mouth filling with water as she was dragged beneath the surface by a creature with terrifying strength. She lashed feebly within its grasp, but its hold on her was iron as it dragged her deeper and deeper into the depths. 

Lyse tried to expel the water that had poured into her mouth, filling it with the foul, salty taste of seawater, only to allow more to plunge down her throat as bubbles trailed her descent. 

Whatever was holding her moved its grip further up her body, and Lyse's spiking heart skipped a beat as Castor's visage entered her line of sight. His golden eyes scrutinized her, filled with mischief until he took note of her face. 

"Shit," his mouth opened, somehow not filling with water like hers, his voice warbling and warped.

Lyse gestured frantically towards the surface, noting with alarm how hard it was to make the muscles obey. It was growing darker, too, harder to think. Castor pulled her closer to him, her body almost weightless in the water, his eyes narrowing with concentration. Lyse sensed aether coalescing within him, similar to the sea that they now roamed in. 

"Lyse!" 

It was so hard...to keep her focus, to think. Had she inhaled too much water when he'd pulled her down? 

Castor's mouth forced itself onto hers, parting her lips and pushing his warmth down into her throat. Lyse's head swam from the warmth of his mouth on hers, her thoughts turning into muddled mush as the entire world shrank until it was just her and Castor, bound together under the surface of the Ruby Sea. 

The water was expelled from her lungs, evaporating the moment Castor's aether forced its way inside of her, and all at once the world sharpened back into focus. Their breath still mingled, making Lyse's head spin in ways not at all unpleasant as Castor's mouth remained upon hers. 

The moment her lungs filled with air, Castor pushed her lips closed with his own and pulled away, his bright eyes scrutinizing her very carefully as his hands remained on her arms. Something on his neck flickered, drawing Lyse's attention to the black lines she could see etched into his scaly flesh. Three on each side, to be exact. 

The lines undulated as Castor nodded and turned his gaze skyward, his powerful hands never letting up their grip. He pulled her against himself, holding her tightly, and then rocketed up towards the surface. Lyse clung as tightly as her fingers could manage, closing her eyes as water whipped violently past them. She buried her face into his chest, her lungs still comfortably full, and hung on until the water was ripped away. 

"Hold on!" Castor grunted, the two going weightless until gravity took hold. 

His body hit solid land, jolting Lyse and forcing a startled yelp from her lungs. They hit soft, warm sand, sprawling out upon the ground and no doubt caking themselves with the gritty substance. 

Lyse groaned softly as dull pain ached through her body, but the tingling of her lips was a welcome reminder of the man who was now releasing her to claw at his throat. 

"Castor!" She twisted onto her side and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, scrabbling over to Castor's form. 

His eyes were narrowed with concentration, his fingers clawing at the lines on his throat as his mouth opened with each desperate attempt to force air down into it.

"Castor! What's going on?!" Lyse tried to recall the proper way to resuscitate someone, to push air back into his lungs, when the dark lines on his neck closed and gave way to his grey flesh.

Castor inhaled deeply, his expression softening into relief as he wrapped an arm protectively around Lyse. "I'm so sorry about that, Lyse."

She huddled against him, not even caring that both of them were soaked and caked with sand. Each breath of warm sea air that entered her lungs was a blessing in and of itself. 

"It's okay," she whispered, resting her head upon his soaked chest. "It's okay." 

"I didn't anticipate you inhaling so much water," Castor murmured. "I'm so glad I managed to use Leviathan's power to convert the water into air." 

"Leviathan?" Lyse murmured through the joyous haze. "Were those gills? On your neck?" 

"Yeah. A little trick I picked up from Novv," Castor chuckled. 

"Can you do something about our clothes?" Lyse could feel the fabric turning stiff from the salt and sand, sticking to her body in ways that made her flesh itch, and she prayed that she wouldn't lose any of it. 

"Yeah, one moment," Castor inhaled, power surging, and the water soaking her clothes was forcibly expelled, instantly drying both off.

Lyse giggled at the absurdity of the moment, but at least her body was freed from the weight of the soaked clothes. Gods, almost drowning had not been on the agenda for this swim! But...at least she was with Castor!

Her lips still tingled with the aftermath of what had happened down there and Lyse turned her head to face his. He was grinning- _grinning-_ at her as if they had just succeeded in fulfilling some sort of mischief with the Sylphs of Little Solace. 

"Nice way to start of a new journey, eh?" His powerful chest rose and fell with his breathing, rumbling with his words. "Next time, I'll have to warn you before I pull you under again." 

Lyse couldn't hold it back anymore. She pulled herself up so they were facing one another, Castor raising an eyebrow in curiosity as she slammed her lips onto his. He tasted like salt and crusted water but Lyse didn't care. She clung to him as tightly as she could, keeping their lips locked together. 

She pulled away only when her lungs couldn't handle it anymore, a thin trail of spit from her own mouth tethering them. 

"S-sorry...I don't really know how to do this," she admitted, her cheeks flushing with heat. 

Castor chuckled, causing her to sway on top of him. "I could tell. Have you never been kissed before?" 

"No." 

He laughed again and let his head rest against the sand. "Come, the others are probably wondering what the hells happened to us." 

Lyse groaned softly, desiring only to stay with him, to learn. But...he was right. Mustering her will to move, she pushed off of him and got to her feet, swaying slightly. Castor rose after her, sand spilling from his duster as he brushed himself off. 

Lyse looked down at her own sand-covered clothes and began patting at it. 

"Let me," Castor ordered, and a burst of wind aether tore the sand from her clothes. "There we go, all bright and shiny and new again." 

Lyse grinned at him, the affection welling up within her heart nearly driving her to claim his lips again, but the darkness that flickered across his eyes rooted her to the spot. She could almost see him shutting down, letting that warmth and light be locked away behind the scarlet walls of his anger. 

"Let's go," she spoke softly, squeezing his hand. 

He nodded, his liquid golden irises hardened into steel as he strode down the beach they'd landed upon. 

"Lyse! Castor!" Alisaie's distant voice caught their attention and Lyse released Castor's hand as the twin strode down a wooden staircase leading higher onto the island. 

Alisaie turned, her lips curving into a smile as she spotted them. "Ah, there you are! We've paid the Ruby Tithe and were wondering where you two had gotten off to!" 

Castor chuckled. "Sorry about that: we had a bit of a mishap." 

Amusement twinkled in Alisaie's eyes as she placed her hands upon her hips. "Oh? Do tell." 

"I pulled her underwater as a joke," Castor sighed, shaking his head. "But I didn't intend for her to inhale so much water as a result of it. I had to use Leviathan's power to convert the water into air so she could breathe again, then pull her up to the surface." 

"It was kinda fun!" Lyse giggled.

Castor shot her a glare, but she smiled sweetly in response. His eyes twinkled, the corner of his lip curving upwards. 

"If you call almost drowning fun, I'd hate to see what you call boring," he commented. "But...I am truly sorry that happened." 

She elbowed him playfully. "It was worth it!" 

He snorted, as did Alisaie. 

"Well, come on, then! Tansui's waiting to see our last two companions before he accepts the Tithe."

"Lead the way," Castor grunted, and Alisaie led them up the stairs to the rocky butte comprising much of the island's upper surface. 

Confederates in bright blue colors were milling about, although many halted what they were doing to stare at the towering Castor, their eyes wide with awe. 

"By the Kami, that one's massive!" A man whispered. 

"Even for an Au Ra," a woman muttered, and Lyse noted that the speaker was an Au Ra with pale scales, similar to Yugiri. 

There were a few males, with equally pale scales and sharp eyes, all of whom were now sizing up Castor with alarmed expressions on their faces. Even the tallest of them were several heads shorter than him and not nearly as powerfully built. 

"I've found our two swimmers!" Alisaie announced to Soroban, Gosetsu, Dorgono and Gorge, who were standing before a man with short black hair and a massive studded club strapped to his back. 

Tansui, maybe? 

"A Xaela?" The man did a double-take. "What the- he's massive! I didn't know the Xaela outgrew the Raen like that!" 

"I'm a special case," Castor rumbled, and Soroban handed a satchel of money to Tansui. "I take it this concludes our business?" 

Tansui nodded slowly, taking an instinctive step back as Castor drew nearer. "Y-yeah. Your Ruby Tithe has been paid and our people will leave you alone." 

"Good," Castor growled. "So, where to now?" 

"Sir!" Lyse turned to see a scout dashing towards Tansui, the man breathing heavily as he gulped down air. "There's trouble! Imperials!" 

Her blood froze, and Tansui loosed a flurry of oaths under his breath. "Where?" 

"By Hell's Lid!" 

Tansui swore again before storming off, several other Confederates on his heels. Castor trailed after them immediately, his duster billowing behind him like grey wings.

"Castor!" Alisaie protested, but the rest of the group followed suit. 

Lyse was at his side immediately as they made their way through the rocky volcanic ground surrounding the burning mountain that had to be Hell's Lid. She'd read of volcanoes, of course, with Yda, but Lyse had never seen one so close. No wonder the air was so hot here: she could see veins of lava coursing through the black rocks, shining with ominous scarlet and orange light. 

They reached a volcanic beach and were greeted by the sight of a boat bobbing before the island, a lone Imperial standing with his arms crossed upon the deck, flanked by two red Kojin. The Confederates were arrayed onshore, where Tansui and the Imperial were locked in a verbal sparring match. 

"Spare me your concern, pirate," the Imperial sneered, the empty face of his helmet gazing upon the party. "Your pathetic attempts of extortion will not work on us. You remain at large because we allow it-because you are such insignificant pests that we see no need to swat you. But if you wish to risk the ire of the viceroy, by all means, fire upon an Imperial vessel. Give us a reason to bring the Empire's might to bear against your pathetic little fleet." 

Lyse's blood boiled, but Castor's hand closing around her dispelled the rage. 

"Not here," he whispered. "Not yet." 

"Bastards!" One Confederate raised his bow, but Tansui shoved the man's arms down.

"Gentlemen, surely you of such limitless resources could spare some for the less fortunate?" The Confederate lieutenant attempted to sound polite but Lyse could hear his strained patience.

The Imperial gave a harsh bark of laughter. "All talk, as I thought. Come, let us away: I have no time for this rubbish." 

The Kojin steered the boat away, towards the distant lands that Lyse assumed was Doma, until it was but a speck. 

Tansui turned around and swore long and hard before finally composing himself. "Gods damned Imperial bastards!" 

"You just let them flout the Confederacy's authority?" Castor rumbled. "And those Kojin..."

"The Empire doesn't recognize the Confederacy as an independent power, and refuse to pay the Tithe," Tansui growled. "The Kojin of the Red are in their employ, attacking and ransacking any ships they want if we don't try to stop them." 

"You cannot fight the Imperial powers so long as the Red Kojin raid your ports, is that it?" Castor mused. "And I noticed that quite a few of your comrades are of Doman ascent. Meaning: you cannot act without being accused of aiding Doman insurrectionists and becoming Imperial targets."

"Aye," Tansui said carefully, narrowing his eyes at Castor before turning to his messenger. "Tell the others these ones have paid. We all have other places to be." 

Castor nodded grimly as the man ran off. "Very well. Is there anything you need here that we can do?" 

"No, but thanks for offering, anyway," Tansui stormed off with the other Confederates in tow. 

"Let's go," Castor looked around. "Soroban probably didn't want to be seen by the Red Kojin, not that I blame him, so let's find him before he thinks we're about to kill him." 

Lyse looked around, just now noticing that the Blue Kojin was absent. "Oh, I hadn't noticed..." 

"I don't blame him for separating from us," Alisaie agreed. "I wouldn't want to be in the same position as him." 

Lyse nodded. 

Castor led the group back up towards the island, Lyse remaining at his side every step of the way. 

"Sir, it's ready!" An engineer called from her terminal, Severus glancing up in her direction from the data flowing before his eyes. 

"Good. Let's get this show started," he strode towards the modified transmitter, tapping on some keys and pulling up a smaller version of the feed he was going to broadcast all across the Empire. 

He watched it in silence, satisfaction only growing at the sight of the flawless feed playing out before him. With this...the Empire would be turned on its head. 

"Everything looks good, sir," one of the Sixth's engineers reported. "The signals are stable and holding." 

Severus glanced over his shoulder at a certain terminal, and at the poor bastard who'd spent most of the past few days locked in a duel with his Imperial opponent. The man's screen flicked off and on as the two struggled to assert their dominance over the other, reduced to turning one screen off and on repeatedly. 

"I won't lose to you, traitor scum!" The Imperial snarled, but it was half-hearted. 

"Oh no, what a nightmare," the Fourteenth engineer drawled, his finger hitting the power button with a steady rhythm to counter his foe's own button pressing. "How's your family been?" 

The Imperial sighed, glancing around the chambers he sat within before turning back to the screen. "They're tired, but my superiors have stopped sending raids into the slums." 

"That's always a good thing to hear. I hated having to turn my weapons on innocent people, but it was either I did that or I watched my own family suffer," the Fourteenth soldier murmured. "Gods above, I haven't even seen my wife and daughter for almost a decade. I don't even know if they're still alive...Or if they even remember me." 

"They're waiting for you, I'm sure of it," the Imperial insisted. "You'll see them again." 

The engineer rubbed his tired eyes with an exhausted sigh. "I hope so...I have so much time to make up for. I'm afraid that Kinley's moved on...found another husband...what if she doesn't even want me anymore?" 

"Then she'd be the greatest fool in any of the provinces," the Imperial answered, jolting as a door slammed in the distance on his side of the screen. "Rebel filth! I will not stop until you give up this pointless crusade! My will is iron: forged by the fires of the mighty Empire!" 

Severus shook his head. To think that those two sorry bastards had gone from tearing each other's throats out to talking about their families and wives...He was almost impressed. 

The button mashing behind him continued with renewed fervor, followed by streams of cursing. 

"Sir?" The Sixth engineer drew his attention back to the broadcast. "If we're going to do this, it should be now." 

Severus nodded slowly. "Agreed."

He reached down, his finger extended towards the pulsing button that would hijack the Imperial signals all over the Empire, replacing propaganda and reports with the broadcast recorded by Regula van Hydrus. 

Severus pushed the button. 

All over the datafeeds, lights were flickering green, signaling the successful override and the projection of the hijacked broadcast.  One by one, all over the vast expanse of the Empire, the signals flickered to life in a great tide. 

"Signal override confirmed!" A woman announced. "We're broadcasting to the entire Empire, wherever they have transmitters and terminals!" 

"Displaying feed!" 

The screen before Severus flickered and changed, the lines of data being replaced by a clear recording of the inner guts of Azys Lla, the audio blaring with the noise of combat. Steel clashed on steel, guns fired, and soldiers screamed as the feed began in earnest. 

A black flash cut across the feed, causing it to shake as the man recording it lunged backwards to evade the familiar twilight blade of Zantetsuken. Castor van Entialpoh emerged before the recorder, his golden eyes blazing with each powerful stride he took forward. 

"You cannot win, Regula van Hydrus," his voice intoned, and Hydrus held his bastardbluss before him. "You're surrounded and outnumbered. Your reinforcements from the  _Gration_  and Castrum Solus have fallen." 

"I will fight to the end for the glory of the Empire!" Regula bellowed, lunging. 

The feed remained clear despite the hectic movement, perfectly capturing the moments as Castor easily parried Regula's strike and sent him skidding backwards with his effortless riposte. 

"Glory? What glory is there in serving tyranny?" Castor wondered as the helmet feed honed in on him again. "What glory exists in murdering innocent people?" 

"Castor van Entialpoh..." Regula was breathing heavily, his mechanized wheezing softening as the audio sensors compensated. "I pity you and your legion. You have no hope, and so you fight a battle you cannot win. I may fall, but the Empire will be eternal!" 

Rapid footsteps made Regula turn his head, to where three Sixth legionnaires were charging towards the two legates.

"Lord van Hydrus, get out of here!" One man shouted as the trio interposed themselves between the fighters. "We'll hold him off!" 

Castor sighed, metal crunching against the Allagan floor, and silver flashed. The three legionnaires crumpled at once, Zantetsuken having claimed their lives with one fell stroke. 

The Legatus of the Fourteenth Legion strode past the corpses to stand before a wheezing Regula, the golden light of his eyes burning with unfathomable power. 

"Look around, Regula," he said softly, gazing away from Regula.

The helmet swiveled, showing the Allagan facility that had become the final war zone between the Sixth and Fourteenth Legions. Fourteenth legionaries in their new armor were driving the Sixth's legionnaires back everywhere Regula looked, corpses carpeting the floor as the survivors heaved against one another. 

Many of the Sixth's soldiers were throwing down their weapons, falling to their knees as legionaries apprehended them. 

"You say that we of the Fourteenth have no hope," Castor's voice filled the audio again. "That we fight because we are desperate and dying. Look at my brothers and sisters, Regula: do they fight like solders who have given up?" 

The helmet swiveled back to Castor, whose expression had softened as he gazed upon the fading debacle.

"We fight, not because we have lost hope, but because we have found it once again," Castor intoned. "Hope...such a precious word, is it not?"

The last of the Sixth's soldiers fell or surrendered, though the latter were scarce in number.

"Victory!" Severus' own voice blared, followed by the cheering of the legionaries.

"Lord Castor!" A victorious legionary cried.

"Lord Castor!" Others took up the chant, until his name was filling the audio feed. 

"I am the Warrior of Light and their Legatus," Castor murmured. "I once thought that it was my job to fill them with hope, but it is the legion that has renewed my own hope. Together, with our strength combined, we have cast off the shackles that once bound us."

Castor's gaze returned to Regula, and Zantetsuken's dark blade was leveled at his throat. "Regula van Hyrdus...old friend of my former lord...I will fight the Empire's tyranny until my dying breath. I will not rest until every single province languishing under the iron heel knows freedom once more." 

Perhaps that had been a bit too much, but Castor had a bit of a flair for the dramatic. 

"You think to fight the Empire alone?" Regula scoffed. "Such foolishness: one man alone, no matter who he might be or what strength he commands, can face the might of the Empire." 

Legionaries began approaching the two, gazing upon Regula. 

Castor looked around at his soldiers, some of whom were still calling his name in the background. 

"You're correct: one man alone cannot do much, even the Warrior of Light, but I am not alone," Castor turned his golden gaze back to Regula, the power radiating around him giving him the aura of a god of war. "My legion stands at my side, as do all who seek to throw off the Empire's oppression. I will fight until the very end. I will fight in the name of all of those the Empire has taken; I will fight for the families ripped apart by our hands, for the soldiers forced to bathe in blood against their wills like I was!"

His eyes burned with golden light, scarlet power rippling around him as he stepped closer, never taking his gaze from Regula. "I watched as my family was ripped apart by the Empire, and I have done so much worse when I was a slave to tyranny. I found the will to fight back, to stand my ground against the Empire, and I will not stop until I bring it all crashing down."

"Tyranny?" Regula growled. "The Empire will save this world."

"Save it? The Empire has done nothing but corrupt and enslave!" A legionary snapped. 

"We believed in the Empire, once, believed that we were making the world a better place," another legionary interjected. "Even when we had to turn our weapons on innocent civilians, even when our own families were threatened to keep us in line!"

"We thought we were saving those poor people, when in reality we were doing naught but becoming monsters. We have the capability to change this world for the better, to really bring about peace and atone for our sins." 

Castor nodded slowly. "We served the Empire because we saw no other way, but now we have found new hope. For the sake of those who have suffered too much already, for the sake of those who know naught else but Garlean tyranny, we will fight. For our new hope, for our new world, I will fight until by body is reduced to ash. So long as there are those willing to fight, to stand against tyranny, the Empire will never win." 

The legionaries roared their assent, raising their weapons to salute their legatus. 

"So long as we stand together, the Empire's power will be reduced to nothing," Castor's voice softened, signaling the end of his rant. "As long as we stand as one, even Imperial power is nothing." 

Regula slowly looked over the small army surrounding him, soldiers who had lost all hope and found it once more. He let go of his bastardbluss.

"Warrior of Light..." Regula chuckled softly. "So, this is how it ends?" 

"This is how it ends, Regula van Hydrus," Castor answered. "The Sixth Legion is finished." 

"I underestimated you." 

"You did, and you foolishly believed you stood a chance against me," Castor stooped, claiming Regula's fallen blade for himself. 

The feed once again swiveled to the soldiers, then back to their Legate. 

"Do it, Castor van Entialpoh," Regula's voice was exhausted, the voice of a man waking up from an endless nightmare. "Free me from the shackles of this accursed nightmare." 

Zantetsuken flashed, followed by the sound of steel parting flesh, and Regula van Hydrus crumpled onto his side. The feed remained straight, thanks to the work of the engineers, providing a perfect view as Castor sighed heavily and sheathed his weapon. 

"It is done, then," he rumbled.

A legionary approached him, saluting with a fist over her heart before thrusting it out. "My lord, what of the survivors from the Sixth?" 

Castor gazed off-screen, his eyes hard and commanding as he considered his options. "Bind their wounds and take them to Castrum Centri. I want our engineers to stay here and work on repairing the  _Gration_ , and I'll secure Castrum Solus to provide a more defensible position." 

"We will secure Castrum Solus, my lord," the legionary shook her head. "You've done enough fighting for today."

"Yes, my lord!" Another soldier cut in, saluting as Castor raised an eyebrow. "You need to rest! You're the one who single-handedly wiped out an entire legion of Allagan defenses to clear the way for our assault." 

"I thought I was the one giving orders here," Castor said drily, although he was clearly smirking. 

"Consider this willful insubordination, sir!" The soldier continued cheerfully as more of the legionaries nodded around him. 

Castor chuckled. "I suppose this is what I get for bringing you all together, is it not?" 

Several other legionaries laughed with him. "You said that as long as we stand together, there's nothing we can't do!"

"That includes getting it through your thick skull that you need to rest, O' mighty Warrior of Light!" Severus' own voice called, drawing a bark of laughter from several other soldiers. 

"It appears I am outnumbered," Castor sighed, shaking his head. "Very well, but if anything comes up, contact me immediately and I'll come up swinging at whatever's in your way. Look out for one another and work together, and nothing can obstruct you."

Castor vanished in a burst of light, and the Severus on screen took note of the helmet that was recording the entire scene. He strode over and knelt before it, causing the feed to shake as he relieved Regula's corpse of his helm.

"A recording?" Severus mused as the feed began to darken. "What were you planning, Lord van Hydrus?" 

And then the screen went black, signaling the end of the broadcast. 

Severus nodded absently, satisfaction burning through his veins. The video was a powerful message to the Empire and, more importantly, those who served the Empire because they had no choice, no hope. 

Maybe it wouldn't do anything but inspire the rebel cells operating in the shadows, maybe all it would do would spread fear of the Warrior of Twilight. 

Maybe...maybe it would give hope to those who had lost it. Hope that the Empire was not all-powerful, hope that things would change if enough people threw off tyranny's shackles and stood together. 

Hopefully Castor wouldn't be too annoyed once he found out about the broadcast. 

"It is she!" Gosetsu whispered with rage as the party took in the sight before them. "The sworn enemy of Doma-of my master!" 

Castor's eyes honed in on the scene, on the black-clad beauty who was surrounded by an escort of Imperial soldiers. She was smoking a pipe and looking utterly bored as she surveyed the villagers clustered up at gunpoint before her. 

It had been a good idea to come ashore on Othard some ways from Isari, especially since Castor had caught a whiff of ceruleum on the salty breeze as they'd approached. It would have been nice of the Confederates had given some sort of warning, but Castor pushed that thought away from his mind as Yotsuyu began speaking to the villagers, her condescending words making his rage keener. 

"Tis better to bend with the wind than stand tall and be broken, is it not?" Yotsuyu continued, her bored gaze sweeping over her betrayed countrymen. "Therein lies...hope. Therein lies freedom. I come before you today seeking affirmation: a heartfelt declaration. You are free to answer me as you see fit, yet even the least among you should know the correct answer. Should." 

And then Grynewaht appeared, drawing a smirk from Castor's lips as he realized the bastard must have been demoted here as punishment for his failures. Why the brute hadn't just been cut down, he didn't know. 

A gunshot rang out, drawing Castor's attention back to the village. Yotsuyu was speaking to a young village man who'd just shot one of his own-perhaps a traitor seeking to escape Othard?- and gestured lazily to an elderly couple. 

"Those are my parents!" The man protested. "You can't expect me to-"

He turned the pistol he held on Yotsuyu, only for her escorts to gun him down as the villagers shrank back in horror. 

"We have to stop this!" Lyse started forward, but Castor grabbed her and held her fast.

"Don't," he warned. "If we attack without a plan, then we risk the villagers being taken hostage. Give me time to scout out their position and-"

"Nay, my friends," Gosetsu cut him off, ignoring the scowl Castor shot his way. "I'll present myself to Yotsuyu and buy you time. Head for Onokoro and petition the forces there for aid and succor." 

Was the old fool going senile?! 

"Don't be foolish! Give me the time I need, and I can kill every single Imperial there without harming any of the villagers!" Castor could feel the crystal around his neck pulsing-Yugiri was close, somewhere deeper inland. 

Oh gods, she was so close...

"While I have dreamed of watching Yotsuyu fall, it cannot be here," Gosetsu answered. "Your mission here requires stealth, does it not? Should even one Imperial manage to report our presence here..." 

"Then the Empire will lock Doma down and slaughter everyone to flush us out," Alisaie continued. "Castor, you said it yourself: if the Imperials find out you're not in Gyr Abania, that you're here, then the consequences for the civilian populations will be dire. On both continents. We don't have the Fourteenth Legion here to help us protect the innocents, Castor: we cannot do anything to set off the Imperials, at least not yet!" 

Castor bit back an infuriated snarl as hot rage burned within his heart. They were right, damn them! If there is to be any assault here to free the villagers, it had to be done by a power other than him. 

Like the Confederacy...but they would not fight, not so long as they feared the power of the combined Imperial/Kojin forces. Ah...that explained Onokoro. Gosetsu...you clever old bastard. 

"Castor, come!" Alisaie was hissing. "While Gosetsu distracts them!"

Wait, what? 

"That bastard," Castor hissed upon finding that Gosetsu had strode forward and announced his presence to the Imperials while he was distracted.

Clever old bastard, indeed. Well, he had no choice now. 

Yugiri would have to wait a little longer.


	16. Violet Tides and Churning Blades

The Confederates certainly knew how to run an island, Castor gave them that. Onokoro was a hub, perhaps their headquarters, with a massive tower of interlocking wooden beams rising into the heavens far above. He wondered just how the hell that thing had been built before dismissing it as a concern. 

They had to be fast: Gosetsu was buying them this time with his own well-being. Old bastard. 

"What the?" Tansui was standing before the aetheryte that hovered on the beachfront, his eyes narrowing as he took in their presence. "Were you not bound for Othard?" 

Castor strode forward. "We were, but the village we sought is overrun with Imperials. The viceroy of Doma holds court in Isari." 

Tansui scowled. "And what would you have us do? Attack them? Do you not remember what I told you earlier?" 

There was no time for any of this.

"Might we speak with your leader?" Castor folded his arms, and Tansui's eyes widened a bit at the blood that no doubt still had to be covering him. 

Those stupid beasts...all blubber and tusks. The Confederates had killed one, and as the group had approached the carcass, they'd been set upon by three more of the things. He'd killed them all, painting the sands with their blood and offal before leading the way here. 

"What do you seek? A second opinion?" Tansui scowled, but something in him relented. "Very well, I'll bring you to Captain Rasho." 

Just like that? Castor would have sensed a trap, but from looking around at how sparse the food supplies were, perhaps the Confederates were desperate. They had arms aplenty, but there was decidedly a lack of consumables. 

Tansui led the group up wooden stairs and scaffolding wrapping the island, to a large platform where a burly, tan-skinned Roegadyn was sitting at a table, some sort of magitek device in front of him. The device whirred softly, beams of light fading inside of it just as the group came into view. 

Captain Rasho, Castor guessed, looked up from the device-some sort of transmitter? - his eyes narrowing as he studied Castor. 

"Are you Captain Rasho?" Castor paused a few feet away from the man. 

"I am," the captain replied, his voice calm and composed as he rose. "What brings you here?" 

"We seek an alliance to oust the Imperials from Isari and from your shores," Castor crossed his arms. "I know we are strangers, and that you have no reason to help us or the village, but I've come to ask, nonetheless, that we work out a deal which both of us can benefit from."

 He could feel Alisaie's eyes burning into the back of his head, but he ignored her. 

Captain Rasho chuckled. "I appreciate your candor; it is always pleasant when people speak their mind. As you say: we have no reason to help strangers, so what were you hoping to gain here?" 

"I've seen that many among you are Doman, or were once Doman," Castor had to play his words carefully, lest he ruin this chance. "Yotsuyu has, no doubt, made attempts to kill or capture Confederates of that descent, has she not?" 

Tansui nodded, his eyes narrowed. 

"I saw some of your fellow Confederates being held hostage in Isari, when we first arrived there," he had gotten a glimpse of some blue-clad figures tied up before the tavern, but he couldn't be entirely certain they were actual Confederates. "I'm guessing the only reason you have made no attempt to rescue them is because you know you cannot defeat the Imperial's and Kojin's combined strength?" 

Rasho nodded. "You are a shrewd military tactician, aren't you? What, then, would you propose?" 

Shrewd tactician? It was basic military tactics to observe everything about your foe, and basic shinobi training. Granted: Castor had trained under one of the finest shinobi and one of the greatest legates this world had ever seen, so perhaps he had an unfair advantage in that. 

"What if we took the Red Kojin out of commission?" Castor offered. "Lured as many of them back to whatever home they have and put them to the sword?" 

"Y-you cannot be serious!" Tansui balked. "You plan to assault an army of Red Kojin with these numbers?!" 

Simmering rage burned through Castor's veins, and he felt his Darkside grinning in tandem with himself for once. "We don't need to kill them all; just to distract them long enough for you to assault Isari." 

"If we fail, you lose nothing," Alisaie spoke up. "But, if we succeed, you will be sending the Imperials a message that the Confederacy is not to be trifled with, and you get your comrades back." 

"And the attack will be justified on your account, since the Viceroy kidnapped your people," Castor continued. "The Empire won't be able to demand reprisals if they were the ones originally at fault. You lose nothing and gain everything you need to get the Confederacy back on its feet." 

Rasho remained silent, contemplating, for several long, tense moments, and then a chuckle escaped him. "How could I possibly say no to that?"

"Captain?" Tansui frowned. 

"Very well, I shall put my trust in you, since you've put so much thought into this," Rasho stole a glance at the transmitter resting on the table beside him. "But know that if you fail, you will receive no aid from us. In regards to the Kojin: the Kojin of the Blue reside on the Isle of Bekko. They may have some idea on how to best deal with their Red brethren." 

Castor frowned at the transmitter. What had Rasho been watching before they'd arrived? Clearly it was something of import...perhaps intercepted Imperial broadcasts? 

"Then we shall begin there," Castor nodded to Rasho, becoming aware of an intense stare from a Confederate off to the side. "Thank you, Captain Rasho." 

Rasho nodded before sitting back down, his expression contemplative as he studied Zantetsuken's hilt. "Good luck." 

Castor nodded, turning back to his allies, most of whom were sporting impressed expressions. Lyse just look awed, her eyes bright. 

"That was...impressive and terrifying at the same time," Alisaie commented.

"That Confederate keeps staring at you, Castor," Dorgono stated. 

The man flinched. "Er, I mean no harm! I just...need a second pair of eyes for a quick moment!" 

"This again?" Another Confederate sighed. "There's nothing out there!" 

Castor shrugged. "If it's only a few moments of my time you need, then I'll gladly lend my eyes." 

He strode after the Confederate as the man hurried up a set of stairs to a higher level, which overlooked the entire western side of the island. 

"Just over here," the Confederate offered him a spyglass. "Look at the beachfront and tell me you see what I do. Please: I've been trying to get others to see it for the past five minutes, but they keep telling me I'm crazy." 

Castor held the glass to his eye and gazed out, immediately spotting a white-haired woman collapsed on the beach.

"Is that a woman?" He scowled.

The Confederate heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank the Kami! I thought I was losing it!" 

She was dressed in a white and red yukata which was caked with sand and soaking wet. Her hair was white, framed by her...pale horns and scales. 

"A Raen?" Castor frowned. "She doesn't look like a Confederate." 

"She isn't: I've never seen her before until a few minutes ago," the Confederate took the spyglass back as Castor held it out. "I hate to ask, but I can't leave my post and nobody else can apparently find her..." 

"I'll go down and see if she's alright," Castor said immediately, striding back towards his allies.

"Hey, what did he need you for?" Lyse asked, the only one who was waiting for him by Rasho. 

"There's a Raen woman passed out on the beach west of here," Castor answered, his boots thudding against the wooden boards as he made his way down the stairs. 

"Wait, what?" Lyse jogged down at his side, her eyes wide. "That where we're going?"

"Yes." 

"Right!" She pumped her fist into the air. 

"Where are you two going?" Alisaie asked as they hit the ground and kept walking towards where Castor had seen the Raen. 

"We found someone who needs our help up here," Lyse answered. "We'll be right back!" 

"What?" Alisaie frowned. 

"Go on to Bekko: we'll meet you there!" Castor called back before walking away.

He strode forward without stopping, slowing his gait so Lyse could keep up. Before long, he spotted the Raen woman sprawled on the ground, noting, too, the jellyfish creatures that were hovering around her. 

"Hey!" Lyse shouted, readying her fists as Castor leaped forward, drawing Zantetsuken in one swift motion. 

He fell upon the creatures, his weapon a dark blur that split the creatures neatly in half. He quickly shielded the Raen's body from the falling corpses, noting how her pale blue eyes were staring at him. 

"Are you okay?" He sheathed Zantetsuken and knelt by her side, immediately spotting the red welt on her neck. "Ah, I see: paralysis. Those jellyfish got you with their tentacles, huh?" 

He drew on the Soul of the White Mage and pushed a gentle burst of magic into the Raen's body, purging the toxins from her veins. 

She shot up instantly, eyes wide with fear as she crawled back a pace or two. "T-thank you..." 

Castor nodded, planting the gentlest smile he could muster upon his lips. "Are you alright? I saw you lying here from the encampment." 

The woman's nerves faded almost instantly, a small smile of her own gracing her pale lips. "I'm fine, thanks to you. I was out collecting moss when the jellyfish fell upon me." 

"You're not with the Confederacy, are you?" Castor examined the woman for more wounds, finding a few more welts on her arms and legs. "You have some more injuries on your limbs."

He pulled out the Soul of the White Mage and placed it in her hand before she could protest, gentle emerald magic immediately targeting the afflicted areas and beginning to repair them. 

"N-no, I'm not..." She gaped at the now unmarked flesh, her eyes wide as she held up the crystal. "What is this?"

"A healing crystal of mine," Castor answered. "It's saved my life many times over in the past. How do you feel?" 

The Raen smiled at him. "Much better, thank you!" 

She handed the crystal back, hesitation flickering across her features before she nodded to herself. "And, no, I'm not with the Confederacy. I live in Sui-no-Sato with the rest of my people." 

"An island settlement for Raen?" Castor guessed, but the woman shook her head.

"No, we live under the sea," she said simply, her eyes widening. "Oh! I have to get back before they notice I'm gone!" 

"Are you certain you'll be alright?" Castor frowned. "Do you have magic that allows you to breathe underwater?" 

The Raen jumped to her feet, hurriedly bowing to Castor before she waded into the shallows and dove into the water. 

"That was strange," Lyse frowned. 

"It was," Castor replied, his blood running cold the moment he saw the drops of red trailing the Raen. "Wait, she's still bleeding. How is she still bleeding?" 

"She'll be fine, though!" Lyse, ignorant to what bleeding in an ocean would mean, said cheerfully. 

"Lyse, do you know what a shark is?" Castor asked, remembering the gargantuan creatures he'd seen earlier, when he'd nearly drowned Lyse. 

"Yes, why?" 

"Do you know how they hunt?" 

"By smelling the water?" Lyse asked hesitantly. 

"And what drives them into a feeding frenzy more than anything else?" 

Lyse was silent for a few moments. "Oh...that's not good." 

"That’s a bit of an understatement. Sharks have keen senses, and that Raen just filled the ocean with the smell of her own blood," Castor splashed into the shallows, drawing on Leviathan's power once more. 

"What are you doing?!" Lyse yelped. 

"Going after that woman before she becomes shark food!" Castor yelled back, his lungs constricting as the gills peeled his flesh apart. "Go after the others and tell them what's going on! I'll meet you at Bekko!" 

"Wait! Castor!" Lyse's cry was muffled as he plunged under the surface, Leviathan's power coursing through his veins. 

Thin lids of film formed across his eyes to shield them, and his new gills siphoned the oxygen from the water with each breath he took. Castor delved into the essence of the sea around him, drawing it close, and willed his body to shoot through the beautiful blue-green expanse. 

The Raen's blood immediately filled his nostrils, and his enhanced senses alerted him to a score of large creatures knifing towards the source of the smell. 

_"The endless sea...the bottomless depths..."_

"Azim," Castor grunted as he weaved through the colorful forests of coral and towering seaweed, scattering schools of all kinds of fish he'd never seen before. 

_"You must save her, Castor, please! She is one of my children, and I don't want her to leave her husband and daughters_ _behind!"_

"Wasn't going to just let her be eaten," Cold water streamed past him as he went deeper, pursuing the Raen, and he sensed the oncoming threat just moments before he felt the water ripple. 

He halted before jolting upright, the shark that had been bearing down upon him missing its mark by mere inches. Castor reached into Leviathan's power, bending the aether around him to his will, and clenched his fists. The shark cruised away, slowly making a U-turn back in his direction. 

Lightless black eyes peered into Castor's very soul, razor sharp teeth glinting ominously as the creature eyed what it thought was the source of the bleeding: an easy meal. 

Water swirled around Castor, responding to his will, responding to the souls within him, and as the great grey and white beast shot towards him, two walls of water pincered the creature. He felt its bones crack from the force even from here, sending ripples through the Ruby Sea as the shark ground to a halt before floating limply towards the surface, broken. 

"At least it didn't bleed," Castor commented before continuing on his way. 

Deeper and deeper he went, passing over dark trenches and reefs until he finally saw what he assumed to be Sui-no-Sato: a village of beautiful Eastern style resting on the sea bed, shielded by a great bubble. 

More sharks had arrived: their streamlined bodies a blur as they streaked towards one of the colorful reefs. 

There! Castor spotted the bleeding woman worming through the twisted maze of coral, attempting to shield herself from the predators diving at her. One of the sharks slammed into the reef in its desperation to get at its prey, sending chunks of coral spinning through the water. 

He pushed his body to move faster, the water almost yanking him towards his prey. 

 _"They're sending some hunters out,"_  Azim warned.  _"Be careful."_  

Castor hoped the Dawn Father meant the other Raen. If not, he didn't even want to know what else in this damn ocean could send out hunters. 

He gathered Leviathan's power and pushed his body even faster through the water, rocketing towards the closest shark as the creature dove at the Raen. She ducked under some cover, and Castor could hear the fervent prayers pouring from her. How he could hear her so clearly when he didn't hear the shark's bones shattering, Castor didn't know, but he wasn't going to waste valuable time questioning the laws of magic and nature. 

He twisted and slammed feet-first into his chosen target, feeling its sinewy body crunch and cave from the impact. The force of the impact slammed the shark into the reefs below them, sending needles through Castor's legs and torso. 

Blood filled the water as sharp coral ripped into the creature's body, and Castor swore as the remaining four sharks immediately turned and streaked towards him. Well, at least they weren't going after a defenseless Raen, right?

And Castor had the power of an eikon of the sea coursing through him: these poor creatures didn't stand a chance. First thing's first: he had to lead them away from Sui-no-Sato. 

The water pulled him through it, propelling him and the bleeding shark corpse away from the village. The predators continued pursuing him, the bloodlust in their beady black gazes enough to petrify any lesser man. 

Castor gazed into those empty abysses and found himself reflected within them. He smiled to himself as he slowed to a halt, letting his shark corpse fall to the seabed before it floated up towards the surface. The other three predators were hot on his heels, so lost to their killing instincts that they never realized that the water around them was taking the shape of two massive hands. 

Castor's gut tightened with the expulsion of Leviathan's power, the two 'hands' clamping down on his pursuers and crushing their bodies between them. He sighed, watching the three bodies join their brethren in their ascent. 

Wait a minute...hadn't there been four sharks chasing him? Castor's senses screamed another warning, just as a powerful body slammed into his back. Dull pain from the impact flared through his torso, and Castor roared as razor sharp teeth ripped into his neck. Sharp agony spliced his nerves, warmth dancing through his shredded flesh. 

"You little!" Castor reached back and grabbed the shark's massive snout with both hands, ripping its teeth from his flesh and slamming it into the nearest coral bed. The scales on the creature dug into his gloves but didn't puncture the fibers as he smashed the shark against the sharp coral again and again. 

It tried to struggle, to free itself, but even its might was the strength of a child compared to that of an eikon's. 

Hot rage screamed, tinting the seas red as his fingers dug vicious furrows into the creature's head with each violent, shaking impact. Only when the shark's shattered skull began to come apart in his hands did Castor finally let go, looking at the ravaged coral that now filled the water around him. 

 _"Good thing you moved too far away from the_ _Raen_ _for them to see that,"_ Azim remarked.  _"I don't think they'd let you in their village if they had."_

Castor grunted and lifted a hand to his throbbing, aching neck, feeling the tattered flesh brush against his gloves. The one part of his body that wasn't protected by the duster, and the shark had ripped it open. 

The wounds were superficial, of course, but it still freaking hurt. Frankly, he was impressed that the shark's teeth had actually been strong enough to puncture his flesh to begin with. He'd have to be careful when dealing with them in the future. 

No other threats alerted his senses, so Castor swam back the way he'd come, leaking blood from his neck as he went. At least it made the deeper water a bit warmer. 

Before long, he detected other larger presences in the depths with him, and his eyes immediately picked up the forms of two Raen hunters swimming furiously towards him. 

"There he is!" One cried, his jaw going slack once he saw the blood gushing from Castor's neck. "Oh, he's hurt!" 

Sui-no-Sato rested serenely in the distance behind them, unaffected by the bloodletting that had taken place before it. At least, Castor hoped it hadn't been affected. 

_"Why do you care so much, Castor? What have they done for us aside from getting us injured?"_

The rage...it burned...Castor drew it into the screaming core of his heart and sealed it away as the two Raen hunters drew closer and grabbed his arms. 

"Hey, we're going to patch you up in the village!" One said carefully, eyeing his wounds. 

"Keep those weapons to yourself, outsider, and we won't have any problems. The only reason we're even letting you in is because you rescued Sena," the other growled, and Castor allowed them to tug him through the water. 

"How the hell is he even breathing down here? I don't sense any blessing on him." 

"Uh, I think he has gills?" 

"Gills? What the hells? Is it even safe to take him out of the water?" 

Castor scanned the village lying ahead for a brief moment before sighing. "I'll be fine: the gills are magic, so I can remove them once we get in." 

The friendlier of the two Raen shot him a worried look. "Hey, save your strength! You're losing a lot of blood!"

Castor remained silent as the two approached a breach in the bubble surrounding the village, water surging as they passed through it. When it cleared, cold water replacing with warm air, Castor released Leviathan's aether and willed his gills to close once again. 

His feet hit the sandy sea floor, and clamoring voices immediately assailed his ears. 

"Oh gods, his neck!"

"Keep the children away from here!"

"Get the healers! Now!" 

Castor shook his head, grimacing as pain knifed his neck and warm blood began trickling down his body. "None of that is necessary." 

The Raen fell silent, several dozen altogether, watching as he pulled the Soul of the White Mage from his pouch. Magic coursed through his veins, closing the wounds, and several of the villagers gasped as his pain faded. 

"Sir!" Sena, the Raen he'd found on the beach, pushed her way forward, her eyes wide. "Oh, thank the kami you're safe! How did you even follow me? Why did you follow me?" 

The two villagers who'd escorted him backed off, and Castor became aware of fearful, even angry, glares settling upon him as he straightened. 

"I saw your blood trail on the beach where I'd found you," Castor answered, and a presence startlingly similar to Yugiri's prodded at him. 

Two presences, actually. 

"I'd seen a couple of those sharks when I first arrived here, and the last thing I wanted was for you to become fish food," he shook his head to clear it. "I didn't know how far down the village was, so I came after you before the sharks could get to you. What was bleeding, anyway?" 

The woman flushed with embarrassment and looked away, her fingers tightening on the lower half of her yukata. 

Ah. 

"Well, regardless, I'm glad you're unharmed," Castor kept his hands away from his swords, fully aware of the fear shining within several of the eyes staring at him. 

"Where did you learn that magic?" A voice called. "The one that allowed you to swim and breathe underwater like that?" 

"From the Sahagin in the Western seas," Castor answered, which was partially true. 

These poor people didn't need to know that he was carting around a god's soul inside of his own, along with about a dozen others. 

"Sahagin?" The voice echoed.

"Fishmen. I befriended one of their broods and they taught me this magic in return for all the help I'd given them," that was a lie, but they didn't need to know that, either. 

"And you came down to rescue her solely because of your good heart?" A man dressed in ceremonial white and red robes strode forward, the crowd parting to let him through. 

"Shiosai," Sena bowed to him, as did several of the others. 

Castor rose to his full height, gazing down at this Shiosai. "I'm an adventurer by trade: helping people in need is what I do." 

At least that was true...partially. 

Shiosai's eyes narrowed, the limbal ring around his eyes bright despite the wary hostility burning within his irises. "It is, is it? And how odd that you know magic that you would need to survive down here, Xaela." 

_"Damn, I was hoping the fact that you resemble_ _Nhaama's_ _children wouldn't be an issue. Give me a moment!"_

"I am not here to hurt anyone who doesn't want to hurt me," Castor responded, the presence of ancient blood poking at his senses. 

He glanced around for the source, keeping an eye on Shiosai and the other harpoon-wielding Raen warriors. 

"The Xaela drove us from our ancestral home in the flames of war," Shiosai said coolly. "We made new lives under the sea, living in peace and contentment. I will not allow anyone to threaten our traditions and homes."

"And I have no intention of threatening either," Castor grunted. "As I said before: I'm an adventurer. My job is to lend aid to any who need it, should they want it. If you want me to leave, then I shall do so." 

Right as he finished speaking, Castor felt Azim's presence rise within him, warmth spreading through his veins. The Raen gasped and backed away, their eyes widening as golden light flickered into the edges of Castor's vision. 

He glanced down at himself, narrowing his eyes at the sun visage that was burning upon his breast. Well, that was one way to get the point across, Azim. 

"T-that's...the mark of the Dawn Father!" One of the villagers cried in alarm. 

"He's been Chosen by the Sun!" 

Castor sighed. "Azim, I think you're overdoing it." 

The glow dimmed a bit in response. 

"Much better: at least you're not blinding me anymore," Castor felt that ancient-blooded presence approaching from the side. 

The crowd parted again, this time admitting a beautiful woman with bright red hair and a yukata to match. Her eyes were rubies, gleaming with hope that Castor had seen in far too many others. 

"You...you are the one from above?" She asked softly, the elegance with which she carried herself making Castor picture her wearing an elaborate dress and crown. "The one claimed by the Dawn Father?" 

Technically, yes. 

Castor nodded slowly. "It appears so, my lady." 

The woman gazed upon him, her flawless face making it impossible to determine her age. She was clearly a younger woman, unmarred by the ravages of combat and hardship, her pale skin giving her the porcelain appearance of a doll. 

"Will you come with me?" She asked softly, timidly. 

Shiosai jolted, eyes wide. "M-my lady! You cannot be trusting this outsider!" 

"He saved Sena's life, risking his own to protect my people," the red-haired maiden retorted. "And he is claimed by Azim. I have no reason to distrust him."

Castor unbuckled his two weapons and offered them to the nearest warriors. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll hand over my weapons." 

"Weapon and a weird hilt you carry around," one of the villagers muttered, but nobody made an attempt to claim the weapons. 

Good thing he wasn't openly carrying his axe. 

"That weapon...it gives off such a terrible aura," the red-haired woman warily eyed Zantetsuken, the color draining further from her face. "Please, put those away." 

Castor returned the weapons to his belt but made no move to draw them. 

"My name is Kurenai," the woman bowed. "I'm the sister of the Ruby Princess." 

"It's an honor to meet you, milady," Castor returned the bow. 

A shy smile formed on the woman's lips. "T-thank you, Sir..."

"Castor," why did she remind him so much of Yugiri? 

"Sir Castor...chosen of Father Azim, will you come with me?" Kurenai asked, glancing at Shiosai. "You as well, Shiosai." 

"Yes, my lady," Shiosai answered immediately. 

"I will," Castor bowed his head, seeing the woman he'd rescued standing off to the side in the arms of a tall male and a younger female child. 

Kurenai followed his glance, a smile of her own forming upon her lips. "Thank you, for saving her." 

Castor nodded, trailing behind Kurenai as she made her way up a wooden stairwell built into the rocky seafloor. Shiosai was waiting at a small pavilion, a miniature otter wearing a pointed hat made of reeds sitting next to him. 

"I don't like this," Shiosai didn't waste any time. "Chosen by Azim or not, he is still an outsider." 

Kurenai sighed softly. "We have no choice, Shiosai, you know this. If we do nothing, then..." 

"I know...but...are you certain you want to trust this...man?" Shiosai glanced at Castor, as if he'd meant to use something more insulting. 

Kurenai's small, doll-like hand took Castor's massive, callused boulder, and he glanced down to see her ruby eyes gazing up at him with warmth and trust. "The energy surrounding him is strong and powerful, yet unfathomably kind. There is much suffering, much darkness, but the warmth I feel from him is undeniable." 

The words melted his defenses, and Castor found himself smiling down at the woman who'd so effortlessly disarmed him. None aside from Yugiri and Lyse had ever managed to do so, and Castor could feel his Darkside churning within him at the thought. 

"I'm touched by the trust that you have in me, Lady Kurenai," he murmured, bowing his head to her. "What do you need me to do? Speak, and I would bring the world to its knees." 

Kurenai's face turned the same ruby color as her hair and apparel, but her tiny fingers gripped his even tighter. Shiosai growled a warning, which Castor ignored. 

"We need your help," Kurenai finally mustered the ability to speak again, though her voice dropped to a barely discernable whisper. "Officially, the Ruby Princess is in the palace, Shisui of the Violet Tides, conducting a ceremony that cannot be interrupted. In reality: dark powers have invaded the palace, and the lives of everyone within are in terrible danger." 

Castor scowled. "Voidsent? Here?" 

Kurenai nodded. "A man in black robes appeared a few days ago, promising to bestow a blessing from the kami. He just showed up in the palace, and then he released the voidsent. The minds of the Ruby Princess and her guards have been enthralled by the creature, and if we cannot find some way to free them..." 

"I'll have to collapse the dome protecting the palace," Shiosai whispered, grief etching across his face. 

"You'd have to kill everyone inside," Castor realized, the dark rage burning within his heart spilling into his veins. 

"I've sworn to protect the Ruby Princess, to protect our people, but if I must sacrifice my life for the power to free them from their corruption, then I will gladly do so," Shiosai said firmly, though Castor could sense the conflict raging within the man's heart. 

Kurenai choked down a sob, and Castor's protective instincts flared. 

"Take me to the temple, and I'll reduce those voidsent to ash," he growled. "I've dealt with their kind many times before." 

Kurenai's eyes shone with gratitude as she clasped his callused hand with both of hers and bowed as low as her form allowed. "Thank you, Sir Castor! Thank you!" 

"My lady, you really think he, alone, can handle this?" Shiosai asked softly. "We are running out of time. If he doesn't free the Ruby Princess by the next high tide, I'll give up my life to collapse the dome before the voidsent spread further. You'd be next in line to inherit the title of Ruby Princess." 

"I don't care!" Kurenai snapped, struggling to keep her voice low. "I just want Hisui to be safe!" 

Hisui...so that was the Ruby Princess's real name. 

"That won't be necessary," Castor warned. "Before the day is out, I will have eradicated the voidsent and freed your people." 

Shiosai's eyes narrowed, but desperation was shining inside of them. "Such confidence...I could almost bring myself to believe you. If you save them..." 

The man picked up a sort of sealed scroll and offered it to Castor. "Take it: it'll allow you entrance into Shisui of the Violet Tides. Lose it, and I doubt even Azim's blessing would let you within the sacred palace." 

Castor took the scroll and tucked it away into his Inventory space, nodding grimly. "I will take care to avoid such a thing. Point the way to Shisui, and I'll be there as quickly as I can." 

"I'll guide you there," Kurenai said, more so a command than a suggestion. "I'm the only one here who can do it." 

Shiosai opened his mouth to protest, but a glare from Kurenai silenced him immediately. 

"I'll keep her safe; I swear it upon my life," Castor promised as the man looked at him. "Should I fail, then may whatever gods exist cast me into an endless void." 

The loyal Raen hesitated, clearly torn, but another glare from Kurenai forced him to give a reluctant nod. 

"Very well...I will be watching the tides, Castor, so remember what you have promised." 

"I will. Lady Kurenai, let us not waste any more time," Castor had scarcely finished speaking when Kurenai tugged on his arm.

"This way."

He followed her back to the lower levels, diving through a gap in the great dome as he drew upon Leviathan's power once more. 

"Just stay close to me," Kurenai instructed as they hovered in the expanse of the sea, her ruby presence a beacon in the blue darkness. 

Castor cruised over to her and took her in his arms, gathering power around him. "Tell me where." 

Water rippled and swirled, ready to propel him forward, and Kurenai was quick to spot it. 

"That way, towards the trenches." 

And so he went, speeding through the water upon the waves of Leviathan's will, following Kurenai's directions as the duo plunged deeper and deeper into the abyss of the sea. Before long, a faint glow pierced the darkness of the massive trench, growing brighter and brighter until Castor could make out another bubble dome filled with a beautiful temple and the buildings surrounding it.

He brought himself and Kurenai before the extravagant gates before slowing and releasing her. 

"It's beautiful," he murmured, gazing at the almost ethereal beauty radiating from the structure. 

"Inside lay the Ruby Princess and her guards," Kurenai murmured, the agony in her face replacing with hope as she looked at Castor. "Please...I'm counting on you, Castor." 

He reached out and gently took the woman's hand. "And I will not disappoint. I will free your sister and the rest of the people inside, I swear it." 

Tears glistened within her shining eyes, and she nodded. "Thank you...Please be careful." 

Castor withdrew the scroll and held it out to the gates, light flashing as they rattled apart. "Stay out here unless something tries to attack you. This shouldn't take long." 

He dove through the gates and hit the ground running. 

Kurenai disobeyed his order immediately: she pushed her way into the bubble a few moments after he had and took off after Azim's champion. 

The towering warrior unsheathed his katana as large angler-fish and sea serpents burst from their hiding places to attack him, roaring and spraying sand everywhere. Castor didn't even break stride as he cut them down with speed Kurenai had never seen before, leaving the creatures in pieces behind him as he continued onwards. 

She swallowed her nerves as she made her way around the carnage, immediately spotting the geysers that would propel her to the next level heading up to the palace. Castor stepped upon it and rocketed upwards in a powerful stream, forcing Kurenai to halt and wait for the geyser to reset for her. 

He was so strong...that power that radiated from him was no lie, but neither was the integrity with which he carried himself. Castor was incredible, to say the least, and Kurenai's heart quickened considerably as she pictured that gentle, warm smile that he'd given her earlier. 

"No, Kurenai, focus!" She shook her head and jumped upon the geyser, her stomach flipping as she was sent skywards upon its currents. 

She jumped onto the next level, looking for Castor, and found him already taking the second geyser up to the palace gates. More wildlife lay in pieces before her, soaking the sands with their blood, and Kurenai picked her way through it as she raced after Castor. 

The second geyser sent her up, depositing her on the final level, and she hurried up towards the gates and the finely polished wooden platform that rested before the main entrance. It was here she froze, her blood freezing within her veins as she saw the massive scorpion creature that Castor was clashing with. 

The creature, all edges and bristling claws large enough to reduce ships to kindling, was scuttling around Castor while lashing wildly at him with pincers and barbed tail, but he moved fluidly between its attacks with an almost bored grace. 

Steel whispered against leather, Castor's katana a bright blur as he streaked beneath the creature, rolling between its legs before coming up running towards the sliding doors of the palace. 

"He's just leaving it?" Kurenai whispered as the creature turned to pursue him. 

Then it halted, blood mist spraying from its body as it shrieked and collapsed upon the beautiful deck, staining the dark wood red. Kurenai watched, her mind struggling to grasp what had just happened when shouts from inside the palace reached her ears. 

She shook her head and ran once more, skirting the edges of the platform before following Castor's path inside. There, she paused again in the doorway. 

Palace guards, enthralled by the voidsent, were swarming Castor, shouting as they rained down blows upon him. He weaved through the rain of steel with ease, not even attempting to fight back until the press of bodies around him proved too great. 

Dark, terrible power filled the air, halting Kurenai's breath within her lungs, and Castor roared. The guards surrounding him flew backwards as if struck by an invisible force, hitting the papery walls and doors and crumpling to the polished floor. 

No! They were trying to save these people, not kill them! Kurenai's heart screamed with horror as she knelt by the closest guard, and then the groaning began.

"Must...protect..."

"My head..." 

She looked around at the fallen men and women, her eyes widening as she took in the living heaps of her people. 

"Loose your arrows and draw your swords! Slay the intruder!" The captain of the guard shouted, followed by the twanging of bowstrings and explosions. 

Kurenai pushed herself back up and continued pursuing Castor, dashing through the corridors she had traversed a thousand times before as she passed by more groaning guards. The audience chamber lay ahead, where Hisui had to be waiting. 

Fear and hope clashed within Kurenai's heart, and she whispered fervent prayers to Azim that her beloved Hisui would be freed. She turned the corner to a larger entranceway, where the captain of the guard and several other warriors lay groaning upon the floors, and Kurenai fought down the urge to scream. 

In the wide, octagonal audience chambers, Hisui hovered above the ground, still dressed in the fine dress and silks with tassels that fluttered around her and the elegant headpiece she wore. 

It was the attire of the Ruby Princess, the ceremonial garb that Kurenai loathed having to be wrestled into whenever she couldn't get Hisui to cover for her. 

Castor stood between the two, a scarlet aura radiating menace and death rippling through the air around him as he gazed upon Hisui, who he believed to be the Ruby Princess. 

"Strange...I don't sense that ancient blood within you," he commented, calmly sliding his katana back into its scabbard and taking several steps forward. "Yet you are the Ruby Princess, are you not?" 

Hisui's answering hiss sent chills through Kurenai's very soul, and the possessed double lunged at Castor, shrieking with the voice of the voidsent that had claimed her will. 

Castor merely sidestepped, a grey blur that easily evaded every single vicious kick or scorching spell Hisui sent his way as the duo danced about the room. 

"Your blood...your spirit...will be mine!" Hisui shrieked, rage and irritation making her voice shake as she gathered fell power around her. 

Kurenai ducked behind one of the partitions as waves of purple energy erupted from her friend, covering the entire room. Castor stood stock still before her, a scowl on his lips as his body twitched in place. 

"Ah, crap," he muttered. "Seduce. I freaking hate that spell." 

Hisui approached him, her lips twisted into an inhumanely cruel smile as her hands came to rest on either side of his face. 

"You are mine, mortal," she purred with that damn creature's voice. "You will be a most welcome servant." 

Hisui leaned closer, dark power rippling through her fingertips, and panic welled up inside of Kurenai.

No! Not Castor! Please, there had to be something she could do!

The voidsent screamed, snapping Kurenai's attention back to the audience chamber, where Hisui had fallen limp in Castor's arms as darkness erupted from her body. Castor held Hisui with the tenderness of a lover as he lowered her to the ground, the gentle green magics he'd used to heal himself earlier zipping into Hisui's body. 

"Hisui!" Relief finally overruled Kurenai's desire to remain unseen by Castor, and her feet propelled her to the duo's side. "Thank you, Castor! Thank you!" 

"You were brave to follow me, but I took care to keep the way clear for you," he said softly, his golden eyes never leaving her. 

Darkness rippled through those miniature suns, inky blackness marring the entrancing gold and reflecting not even a fraction of the monster that lurked underneath his kindness and honor. 

"Kurenai...Ruby Princess...I've spared every one of your people thus far," Castor declared. "All that remains is the voidsent and its minions. I must stress that you stay here while I deal with it." 

She started, Hisui's form limp in her arms as she clung to her lady-in-waiting. "H-how did you-" 

"You are the only one I can sense Azim's blessing within, carried by ancient blood, which I'm assuming only the Ruby Princess has?" Castor gave her that heart-melting grin once again, reducing her vocal emissions to hopeless stammering. "That one doesn't have what you do. At first I thought it was because you were the Princess's sister, but now I think I know otherwise." 

Kurenai offered him a meek smile, Hisui's breathing soft against her skin. "You are correct...Hisui is one of my dearest friends and most loyal retainers. She often acts as my double since we have the fortune of appearing so similar, which was the role she took when the man robed in black appeared before us." 

More darkness flickered across his beautiful eyes, each black writhing vein sending a stab of despair through Kurenai's own heart. "Was the man's cloak embossed with silver designs of an archaic origin? With a red mask obscuring his identity?" 

Kurenai frowned. "You just described him perfectly. You know who he is, then?" 

A low growl escaped Castor's throat, setting off every fight or flight instinct Kurenai's small body contained. "Ascian: a servant of Zodiark, the god of darkness. I've been helping Azim fight them for a while, now, and it appears the lowly worms decided to strike against Azim's children instead of the Dawn Father, himself, this time." 

Kurenai swallowed nervously, her grip on Hisui tightening. 

Castor rose, that scarlet aura rippling and writhing as pure murder gleamed within his eyes, turning the warm suns into violent supernovas of death and destruction. "Stay here, Ruby Princess. I will return shortly, after whatever those Ascians loosed upon your people has been dealt with." 

And then he left for the adjoining pool that would guide him to the gardens, and Kurenai could have sworn she saw black rose petals rising from his shadow before drifting away. She heard him splash into the pool, followed shortly by the shrieking of whatever creatures still guarded the way to this voidsent. The shrieking and roars fell silent almost immediately afterwards, and Kurenai almost found herself pitying the poor monster that had dared to threaten her people. 

Footsteps pounded down the hall, followed by echoing cries from familiar voices, and Kurenai released a heavy sigh from a chest that was already bound tighter than a Westerner's corset. She'd tried one on some months ago and had had to be cut out of the terrible contraption. How did the women who wore those breathe?!

"Princess!" Shiosai appeared with several of the royal guards who'd been awakened. "Thank the gods you are safe!" 

Her people clustered around her, the poor guards prostrating themselves before her and spewing out heartfelt apologies for their failures before she could stop them. Kurenai steeled herself, putting herself back into the role as Ruby Princess as she held up a hand to silence the guards. 

"That is enough: you are not to blame for what has happened here," she assured them, as gently as she could manage. "All that matters is that Sir Castor has freed you from the monster's influence and now makes to deal with the invader, itself." 

Shiosai nodded grimly. "So, that was his handiwork we saw on our way in. I'd feared I would find our people in similar states, but I have never been gladder to have been proven wrong." 

The Raen jumped almost as one as an unearthly shriek shook the palace to its very foundation, knives raking through Kurenai's skull as she clutched at her ears in a vain attempt to shield herself. 

"Kami forfend, what the hells was that?" One of the guards gasped. 

"The voidsent," Kurenai whispered, and the palace was shaken by a faint tremor. "I heard it speaking through Hisui earlier. It sounded just like that." 

 ** _"Insolent creature..."_** The voice that echoed throughout the palace was Castor's and yet it wasn't: it was gravelly and more ancient-sounding, filling every nook and cranny it possibly could. 

Kurenai found herself gazing down at her unmoving friend, tears falling from her eyes as all of the warmth and joy were suddenly drained from her body. The palace seemed to be growing darker, and Kurenai thought perhaps it was a trick on her eyes until misty darkness began to fill the air. 

Faint orbs of light flickered amongst the sudden twilight, the guards clustering around her even as their bodies trembled. 

 ** _"Mine obsidian blade shalt split atwain the threads of_** ** _thy future,"_** Castor's voice radiated with pure rage, making Kurenai's heart shrivel up within her breast,  ** _"whilst its crimson fuller shalt channel the lifeblood of thy past!"_**

The air went still and almost seemed to split as the sound of steel parting flesh resonated throughout Shisui, a faint ripple the only indication that anything was happening. 

"What the hells?" Shiosai whispered. "What is that man?" 

Kurenai almost felt something die somewhere beyond the walls, its spirit utterly destroyed by the champion of Azim who was so tainted by darkness. Fear she could not control writhed and slithered through her veins, gooseflesh ridging her limbs as she huddled closer to her escorts.

The twilight faded, taking the Hopelessness with it, and all at once, Kurenai's unnatural fear vanished. Warmth once again filled the palace, and the many lanterns seemed to burn even brighter than before as if in an attempt at banishing the darkness that had tainted the walls. 

"Is he going to kill us next?" One of the guards asked, and the air stilled as a heavy presence pressed against Kurenai's body. 

All eyes were pulled towards the pool connecting the audience chambers to the gardens, where a figure bleeding darkness was hauling itself back onto the platform. Kurenai's breath froze within her lungs, her heart shriveling up and shattering as she beheld the ravaged form of the hero who had saved her people. 

Castor was covered in blood, black rose petals rising and falling around him in a shadowy rain as wisps of dark energy gushed from his pores. The scarlet aura that had filled the air around him was still there, rippling even more violently than it had but mere minutes before.

And the worst part? His eyes: they were no longer golden suns, but rather twin embers of burning hatred that bled scarlet with every movement he made. The odd black hilt that Kurenai had sensed so much malice and darkness within was clutched in his hand, a shimmering obsidian blade extending from it and radiating unholy light. 

"That sword!" She whispered in the tense silence, her voice almost too loud. "We have to take that sword away from him! Now!" 

Shiosai and the guards looked at her as if she were going mad, their eyes wide with horror. 

"It's corrupting him!" Kurenai insisted, pushing legs that wobbled and shook violently to bear her weight. "I sensed terrible darkness inside of it earlier! It's doing this to him!"

Cold waves invaded her personal space, chilling her very soul as she took one step forward, then another, her muscles screaming and protesting all the way. Her mind begged her to run, to get as far away from this incarnation of Death as she could before it devoured her very soul. But still she forced herself to move closer, step by step. 

Kurenai reached out to Castor, praying to Azim for the strength to persevere as the long obsidian blade extended past her side. Those black petals were caressing her flesh, now, leaving horrible chills with every unnatural kiss. But still she continued pushing forward. 

Castor's burning eyes never once left her, and as Kurenai's tiny hand came to rest on the great fist clutching that unholy weapon, she could feel a faint light in the darkness, struggling to overcome it. 

It was so tiny...so cold...almost gutting out underneath the weight of so much anger and despair. Castor had endured so much pain to get to this moment, far too much for Kurenai to ever understand even if she could live a thousand lives. He'd lost so much of himself to the rage and the violence that there was hardly any room left for anything or anyone else. 

Something with the Ascians and this sword had driven him over the edge of the darkness that she had seen corrupting his eyes, corrupting his spirit, and Kurenai would be damned if she let Castor fall like this! 

Metal clanged as the black sword fell, and all at once the oppressive darkness faded. The twilight vanished around Castor, his eyes returning to their golden hue as he fell to his knees. 

Kurenai couldn't keep the tears from falling down her cheeks as she reached out and cupped Castor's face within her palms, her soft flesh grating against his dark scales. The anger was fading as she pressed their foreheads together, the fear that had filled her being taken away with it. 

The sound of his labored breathing was the only thing echoing through the empty palace, his warm breath washing over Kurenai with each forced exhale as tears of his own fell from his golden eyes. 

"It's okay, Castor," Kurenai whispered, just holding him against her as she looked for that tiny light in the darkness of his soul. "It's okay." 

It was there, if only barely. 

So tiny...

Just waiting to gutter out. 

And from that void that filled his soul, Kurenai heard a voice: 

_"Can you hear them, Castor? The screams of our sins?"_

_"Can you see them? Can you remember them?"_

_"Because I'll never forget."_


	17. Revelry

The pain of the Raen surged through Azim's heart, filling Castor's own eyes with the Dawn Father's tears. 

 _"How did I not sense this?"_  Azim moaned. _"How did I leave my own children so defenseless?"_

Golden sorrow clashed with midnight-black rage, both bleeding through Castor as he'd stumbled back to where Kurenai was waiting. 

The Ruby Princess had approached him, tears streaming down her eyes as she'd reached out for him, believing that it was Zantetsuken that was causing him to suffer so acutely. 

_"_ _Kurenai_ _...my chosen daughter...I'm so sorry..."_

"Azim, get yourself together," Castor growled, tugging on his solar benefactor's bond with him. "The village is safe, now: Kurenai is safe now!" 

Azim's tears continued falling from Castor's eyes as Kurenai had cupped his face in her hands, sensing the turmoil raging within him. She'd thought it was his pain, his tears. 

There were no more tears left to be shed, no more sorrow to be found within his black, twisted heart. Even as he'd gazed upon the endless dead slain by his hand, all that blood drowning Hydaelyn thanks to him, he'd felt nothing. It was all just a dream, an illusion, and even when he'd cut through two of the ones who commanded his heart...no...that had hurt. 

Hurt his heart. 

If he ever hurt them...physically hurt them...

Lyse...gods above, Lyse...

How much longer would that adoration shine within her eyes? How much longer would those rough, callused hands of hers clasp his with affection? 

How much longer would it be before the truth ripped them apart? Before his sins against her and the blood on his hands took away yet another person he loved? 

"Castor?" Kurenai's soft voice broke the veil, and he rose back into lucidity as warmth sank into his bones. "Are you alright?" 

She'd had him brought to her personal quarters and all but thrown onto her bed, ignoring Shiosai's protests as she'd tried for the past hour to force his Soul of the White Mage to heal wounds that he didn't have. 

"Kurenai?" His voice was raw with Azim's sorrow, and he silently cursed the Dawn Father for reducing him to such a pathetic mess. "You are unharmed?" 

The relief that flooded the young princess's face pierced his heart in ways he'd thought no longer possible, the almost otherworldly softness that hugged his body making his vision swim. 

"I'm fine, all of us are!" Kurenai insisted, her tiny, soft hands clutching his. "Why did you use that terrible weapon? I could feel it corrupting you...hurting you." 

"I had no choice," he grunted.

He didn't: the rage that had burned through his veins, coupled with Odin's power, had to be released, or else it would have bled through his body, with dire consequences for those around him. He'd drawn the weapon and unleashed it upon that ugly, writhing tentacled voidsent, needing release. 

Myste had taunted him, when Kurenai had pushed Zantetsuken from his hands as Azim's sorrow and rage burned through his heart. 

_"Can you remember, Castor?"_

_"Because I'll never forget."_

Bastard: like guilt and pretty illusions would make this damn world better. Like poisoning him with all the blood he'd shed would do anything more than make him angrier. 

Kurenai leaned closer and pressed her forehead against his, her lotus-scented breath tickling his nose. 

She smelled just like Yugiri. 

"Thank Father Azim you're safe," she whispered. "I was so afraid that..." 

The Ruby Princess exhaled shakily, a short laugh escaping her lips. "Kami, look at me: I must appear ridiculous, fretting over a seasoned warrior who's over three times my size!" 

"Maybe five," Castor replied, grinning at Kurenai as her ruby eyes met his own. 

Why did she care so much about him? They'd only met earlier in the day, and all he'd done was fight for her people and terrify her. 

Castor wouldn't blame her for wanting nothing more to do with him after this was all settled. 

"What am I going to do with you?" She shook her head slowly before her bright eyes fixed back upon him, porcelain face etched with relief and concern. 

Yugiri had asked him the same thing, many times in the past. Wait a minute...

"Can I ask you something?" He had to choose his words carefully, lest Kurenai shut him out.

The Ruby Princess nodded, a faint smile forming upon her lips. "Anything!" 

"Was a woman named Yugiri from Sui-no-Sato?" 

Kurenai's face hardened, and Castor bit down a curse. 

"She was. Almost twenty years ago, she and another snuck up to the surface, curious about what lies beyond the Ruby Sea. Yugiri met a young man who told her of Doma's plight, and she immediately made it her mission to get involved," Kurenai murmured softly, slowly. "She returned and insisted that we aid Doma, that we risk our people for the sake of strangers who did not matter to us nor care for our struggles. She said the Garleans would find us, eventually, and that they would destroy us all." 

"She trained as a shinobi after leaving, serving the heir of Doma until he bade her to take a number of innocents across the sea to Eorzea, my homeland," Castor continued after Kurenai fell silent. "I met her in my travels the day she made landfall, and I made it my mission to get her people sanctuary." 

Kurenai smiled faintly. "To think that you, of all people, would find us here...How has she been?" 

"I don't know," Castor admitted, lifting the crystal that bound him and his beloved friend. "We're linked with these crystals, so I know she's still alive, but the connection is still rather...patchy from being apart for so long." 

"She must be very dear to you," Kurenai remarked. "I can see the way your eyes light up as you speak about her." 

Castor grinned at the Ruby Princess. "Of course she's dear to me: she's one of my closest friends and most stalwart allies. She stuck by my side when others threw me to the wolves, and thanks to the damn beastmen who lurked under the mountains, our souls are bound together." 

"Bound together?" Kurenai repeated, intrigue glittering within her eyes. 

"Yes. The accursed Kobolds had captured me when I was training with Yugiri and had cut me open, hoping to use my aether to summon their god, Titan," Castor shook his head slowly. "Yugiri used her own aether to plug the hole, binding us together as she used her own soul to keep me alive." 

Kurenai's eyes widened. "My...she was always fiercely devoted to those she cares for, but I never thought..." 

"We've saved each other's asses several times ever since we met, and there's no one else that I am closer to," Castor's heart swelled with pride for his friend as he palmed the crystal around his neck. "To tell the truth: I am traveling to Doma to reunite with her and to fight the Empire at her side." 

"Truly? With one as strong as you, then perhaps the rebels stand a chance," Kurenai mused, her eyes softening as a smile curved her lips upwards. "I can see why you would be so dear to her. You are kind and strong, and you radiate light like a second sun. Your smile...soothes my nerves...eases my heart in ways I've never felt before." 

"I could say the same for you, milady," the words escaped his lips simply because they were the truth. 

Kurenai's porcelain skin again adopted a red hue, her tiny hands clenching his even tighter. "T-thank you..." 

He could hear her heart pounding within her frail chest, her pulse increasing rapidly as she fought to keep her breathing even. 

Castor pushed himself to rise, feeling hollow from expending so much of his rage and power at once. "I cannot waste more time here. I have allies who are waiting for me to return so we can come to the aid of a friend who is buying us time." 

"O-oh..." Kurenai's face fell immediately, her hands going slack. 

His heart immediately ached, his hand reaching out and gently cupping her frail, porcelain face with his palm. She was so soft...so smooth: silk given fleshy form. 

"I can return after we're done rescuing our friend," he promised, heart skipping a beat the moment Kurenai's face lit up at his words. "I'd like to learn more about the village and those who live within it: about you." 

Kurenai's shy smile melted his defenses even more. "I'd like that. I'd like that very much, Castor. And I'd love to learn more about you, as well!" 

She leaned into his touch, her horns brushing against his flesh at the movement. 

She was so precious...so pure...untouched by the violence that had stained his existence black and red. 

"If you must go, then I won't delay you any further," Kurenai mustered her courage and will to force those words out of her lips. "Shiosai is beyond grateful for what you've done, you know. He might not show it, but he was tormented by the thought of potentially killing everyone inside the palace." 

Castor nodded. "I know: I saw it in his eyes when we first spoke with him. I'm glad I managed to get everyone out alive."

"Hisui still sleeps," Kurenai noted, a thoughtful frown crossing her lips. "What did you do to her, anyway?" 

"I used the Soul of the White Mage to purge the corrupted aether from her body, forcibly expelling the voidsent," Castor explained, making to move his hand away but stopping as Kurenai rested her own hand upon his. "She should awaken shortly: having such power forced from one's body is a difficult ordeal to recover from, but Hisui's got a strong will." 

Kurenai smiled again, that brilliance melting more of the hatred that burned through Castor's veins. 

_"Oh, for the love of...really, Castor? You're falling for this pathetic little girl?"_

Was he? 

_"We can ill afford more worthless distractions...Perhaps it would be best to give me the reigns...let me put an end to this farce."_

No. 

Castor reached into the burning, screaming Soul and lashed his Darkside, tearing into it with the savagery of a beast. It howled, shrinking away, begging for a reprieve.

"I...I must admit that I am loathe to be parted from you so soon," Kurenai was saying, her face heating beneath his palm as she spoke. "You have your duties, however, and I will not delay you any more than I already have." 

Castor nodded slowly, the urge to remain here burning his mind. "Nor I, you. You have your duties, as well, and I will not obstruct you." 

Kurenai let go of his hand and let him pull away, sliding out of the bed and rising to his full height. He immediately spotted his katana resting on a table and quickly buckled it to his hip. She was so tiny compared to him, even smaller than Yugiri. 

Yugiri...wait just a little longer, and I will come for you. 

I will be by your side again shortly, I swear it!

"I'll return with you to Sui-no-Sato," Kurenai said, stepping closer to him. "The palace is going to need repairs before we can begin holding court here again." 

Castor smiled at her, not quite disliking the way his hollow chest warmed at her offer. "I would be honored by your company, milady." 

Kurenai flushed once again but took his hand to guide him out of the palace, and he allowed her to pull him along despite the unfathomable gap in their strength. 

Castor could hear the guards outside, several still nursing wounds as Kurenai opened the doors and led him out. They all watched him like a hawk, following every move he made even as bright fear shone within their eyes. 

Kurenai kept glancing back at him, offering a smile every now and then as they walked in silence through the palace's beautiful, colorful halls. 

Castor could feel Zantetsuken calling to him from the audience chamber where he'd dropped it; the sole source of darkness in this home of light and warmth. When they arrived at the room, Kurenai stiffened as she took in the sight of the discarded blade. 

"Must you take it?" She asked, her voice almost too soft to hear. "What it did to you earlier..." 

Castor released her hand and strode over to the accursed weapon, scooping it up into his hand. Dark aether from the eikonic blade surged into his body, reducing it to a mere hilt once again, and Castor hooked it to his waist before turning back to Kurenai. 

"I was losing control thanks to the voidsent, and the power contained within the blade," he murmured. "It will not control me again." 

Kurenai again claimed his hand, continuing their stroll towards the gates of the palace. "I pray it won't. The darkness and pain that I felt in you...how have you even managed to keep yourself together all this time?" 

"Discipline and finding something, or someone, worth fighting for," Castor murmured. "If I hadn't, then I would have gone mad long ago." 

Maybe I have gone mad, and I just don't know it yet. 

He remained silent as Kurenai led him through the corridors that he'd had to fight his way into earlier, the guards still bearing the proof of their enthrallment as they nursed bruises and broken bones. He'd tried to be as gentle as he could, but his survival instincts had kicked in far faster than he'd been anticipating with that burst of magic. 

Kurenai pulled him around where several guards were trying to haul the massive carcass of the scorpion guardian onto a makeshift wagon, but he paused as the poor souls struggled mightily against the carcass' weight alone. 

"Allow me," he raised his voice, tugging his hand free and striding over to the massive carcass. 

The guards gave him exhausted looks.

"Look, if you want to try, be my guest," one sighed wearily. "But if a team of trained soldiers can't move it, then what makes you-" 

Castor crouched, hooking his fingers underneath the thick plating of the thing's hide and pulling the creature's weight onto his torso as he lifted it from the ground. With tentative steps, chiton scraping against wood with each movement, Castor hauled the carcass over to the wagon and carefully dumped it, letting the creature's head bounce against the floor. 

"By the kami," one guard whispered. "What absurd strength." 

"No wonder he bested us so easily," another murmured, his eyes wide. 

Castor strode back to a slack-jawed Kurenai, nodding to her as he strode towards the gates. 

"That was incredible!" The princess gushed as she jogged at his side, her hand seeking his once again. "I saw you fell the beast with but a single stroke, but I didn't think you had such strength!" 

He gave her a smile, pride shimmering faintly within his heart as the maiden's face flustered immediately. "Well, it comes with what I do." 

"Are all western adventurers so mighty?" Kurenai gasped, and Castor winced, realizing the poor choice of words. 

"Well, no, actually," he admitted. "I'm...a special case, so to speak. As carrier of Azim's blessing, I can resist the influences of god-like deities known as primals or eikons. Because of my immunity and strength, I was tasked with destroying eikons wherever they showed up."

Kurenai's eyes widened. "Those strange powers I sensed within you...they're the eikons you've fought?!" 

"The ones I've absorbed into my soul and imprisoned to keep them from being summoned again," he corrected. "There are a few I couldn't absorb or just flat out destroyed, however." 

The geysers rose to take them down, and Castor was impressed to see that the animal corpses had already been removed. Kurenai pressed closer against him as the water under their feet gently lowered them to the second level, and the princess smiled again as he lent his strength in helping her jump down. 

"Thank you for coming here, Castor," she murmured again as they continued their trek. "I don't know what would have happened had you not followed Sena to our doorstep." 

"I travel so that I might aid those who need it, and it appears Azim also had a hand in it," Castor replied, holding onto Kurenai as they descended to the lowest level. 

"He sent you here as well?" She guessed. 

"He did." 

They fell silent as they approached the gates and the edge of the bubble shielding Shisui of the Violet Tides. Castor reached into his soul and drew upon Leviathan once more, lungs constricting as gills were once again etched upon his neck. 

Castor leaped into the water, pushing his way through the cold barrier as he blinked the clear secondary lid into place. His body was weightless, shuddering with the untamed powers of the sea as Leviathan swam through his veins. 

"Might we...swim back this time?" Kurenai's hesitant voice drew his attention to the princess bobbing at his side. 

Castor grinned at her and held out a hand, which she took as her face lit up into a brilliant, beautiful smile. "Of course." 

"This has to be it!" Alisaie announced as she rifled through the sand and wreckage of the sunken ship. 

Lyse was rummaging through a portion of her own, the Kojin's blessing keeping her afloat as she pushed aside rotting timbers and barnacle-encrusted wooden chests. The lantern that Yugiri's parents had given them were providing much needed light, but so far, this Magatama had yet to appear. 

It was so damn frustrating! 

They'd gotten to Bekko and found Soroban, only to have to gather materials for this blessing so they wouldn't drown. That done, the group had ridden manta rays to Sui-no-Sato, where the overseer, Shiosai, had refused to have anything to do with them until Alisaie said they were friends of Castor's. 

Apparently, the Warrior of Twilight had already saved some Ruby Princess and was resting in a palace on the seabed, and he'd been badly hurt by dark powers from a possessed sword. 

But, at least he'd given them leave to search for the Magatama Chief Bunchin said they'd need to distract the Red Kojin and open the way for a Confederate assault on Isari.

Well, Shiosai had only yielded permission after he'd apparently scented Castor on Lyse, recognizing that the two shared a bond that validated part of their story, anyway. The Raen were still watching them like hawks. 

"If those Raen lied to us, I'm going to reduce their little village to rubble!" Dorgono shrieked as she slammed a fist into the coral before roaring with pain. 

"I don't think so, Dorgono," a familiar, dry voice made everyone in the water spin to see Castor approaching. "I didn't fight to protect Azim's children just to let you kill everyone." 

Especially Yugiri's parents. 

"You what?!" The stunningly beautiful red-haired woman at Castor's side yelped, her ruby kimono swaying in the water as she drew closer to Castor. 

"Relax: Dorgono's not actually going to attack the village," Castor assured her, and Lyse fought down a surge of...something at the sight of him holding hands with the ruby Au Ra. 

"Castor! Thank goodness you're alright!" Lyse swam over to him, ignoring the redhead as she flung her arms around her dear friend. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," Castor placed one arm around her, and Lyse stole a glance at the redheaded Au Ra, who was raising an eyebrow at her. "What are you doing out here?" 

"Looking for a magatama that will allow us to distract the Red Kojin," Alisaie swam over and stuffed a lantern into Castor's hand, forcing him to release Lyse. "Take this and shine it on the rocks, now! We've been looking for almost an hour with no sign of the accursed thing!" 

Lyse resisted the urge to smirk as Castor released the Au Ra and glided towards the seabed, away from the others. 

"Who are you?" She asked the Au Ra, who gave her a frown. 

"I am Kurenai, sister of the Ruby Princess," she responded with a practiced, fluid tone. "And you are?" 

"Lyse, I've been one of Castor's closest friends for years, now." 

Kurenai frowned. "Really? He didn't mention you: only Yugiri." 

Oh, this little...

"Hey, what is the magatama supposed to look like?" Castor called out, and Kurenai swam gracefully over to him after shooting Lyse a hostile glare. "And Kurenai  _is_  the Ruby Princess, not her sister." 

The princess paused at his side, her gaze roaming over the sandy ground. "If the magatama is the one I think it is, then it will only reveal itself to one that it has deemed worthy of carrying it. Sacred objects can be rather picky like that." 

Castor's lantern flashed, and he reached down, digging through the sand until he withdrew a curved gem that shone like moonlight. "Huh, is this it?" 

"You've got to be kidding me!" Dorgono wailed. 

"Not even five minutes after he gets here..." Alisaie growled. 

Lyse's heart shrank: Castor had been fighting and saving people, alone, while their combined numbers hadn't been enough to find what they'd needed. 

Instead, it had taken Castor to keep them moving forward when the poor man was probably exhausted. 

"As I said: sacred objects often choose who can acquire them," Kurenai was saying, placing a possessive hand on Castor's. "I am not shocked that it waited until Castor had come to claim it." 

Lyse glared at the princess, wondering if she'd somehow done something to bring the jewel forth, but Castor merely slipped their objective into his pocket before gliding-he wasn't swimming, Lyse could feel the water pulling him along- over to her. 

"Sorry for leaving you guys on your own for a while," Castor spoke up, the gills on his neck undulating as he breathed. "I've had some fights of my own to deal with." 

"It's fine," Alisaie interrupted before Lyse could even open her mouth. "Let's just get that jewel over to Chief Bunchin and Soroban to make sure that it's the right one before we attack the Red Kojin." 

The snow-haired twin began swimming back towards Tamamizu's bubble, impatiently waving the others after her. 

Castor wasted no time in gliding after her, forcing the rest of their company to follow in his wake. Lyse found herself swimming at Kurenai's side, her head swiveling towards the Ruby Princess and her flawless, incredibly beautiful features. 

"You sure you want to follow us?" Lyse asked hesitantly, not wanting to offend a princess. 

Kurenai gave a grim nod. "Only for a short time longer. I have to return to the village, but I don't...want to leave Castor just yet." 

A smile tugged on Lyse's lips, and she nodded. "I understand that very well. So, what did he have to fight down there?" 

"Voidsent," Kurenai said softly. "They were unleashed upon my home, my people, and enslaved all of my guards. Castor saved everyone and destroyed the monsters in the process." 

"Heh, that sounds just like him," Lyse giggled at the thought. 

The princess's face hardened. "Why does he carry so much terrible darkness within him?" 

Lyse hesitated. "What?" 

"We are both Azim's Chosen, and I can sense parts of who Castor is," Kurenai elaborated, her gaze never leaving Castor. "And what I felt was...so much darkness and pain behind the light that shines from him." 

Lyse again paused, the words dying on her lips before new ones crept forward. "He's suffered a lot...fought so many terrible things just to protect everyone. I don't even know how he manages to keep himself together, honestly..." 

They swam in silence, both pairs of eyes trailing after Castor as he drifted farther and farther away.

"Please, stand by his side in the battles to come," Kurenai whispered. "He will need you, as he will need Yugiri, if he is to leave this chaos as himself." 

Lyse nodded. "I won't leave his side, no matter what comes our way." 

Kurenai's small hand came to rest on Lyse's own as they paused. "Thank you, Lyse. I'm counting on you." 

Lyse's lips curved upwards of their own volition. "Well, I won't let anyone else down." 

"I have faith in you, so please look out for Castor," Kurenai paused, water swishing ahead. 

"Good news: this is indeed the Magatama we were looking for," Castor announced. "We're a go for the Isle of Zekki, home to the Red Kojin and their treasure vault." 

He and Alisaie were gliding over, Castor's eyes hard in anticipation of the slaughter to come. 

"I'll launch a preemptive strike against the Kojin and start carving them apart," the Warrior of Twilight continued. "Distract them while Alisaie and the rest of you find the treasure vault and use that knife the elder gave us."

"Let you run off and have all the glory?" Dorgono growled. 

"He's not running off: he's doing us a favor by taking the majority of the island's defenders away from the vault," Gorge cut in, Dorgono's eyes turning to him as he spoke. "We'll have our fair share of fighting to do without a small army swarming all over us." 

Somehow during the journey to the East, Dorgono had become tolerant of Gorge's presence, actually seeking his advice and approval on matters where Lyse had seen her snapping at him earlier. 

"I see..." Dorgono frowned. 

"If that's settled, let's go," Castor barked. "Gosetsu doesn't have forever." 

Castor glided towards Kurenai, bowing his head to the Ruby Princess. "Princess Kurenai, please take care of yourself."

Kurenai nodded, reaching out and clasping Castor's hands in her own as she gazed up at him. "I should be saying that to you. You are strong, but do not forget who you are." 

"I won't," he said softly. 

"Good," Kurenai's ruby eyes gleamed as she released him, then swam up to plant a hesitant kiss on his cheek before dashing away. 

"Well, I think you left quite the impression on her," Alisaie said drily. 

Castor watched the princess go, his expression shutting down to cold rage as he turned away from where she'd been. "Let's go. We have no time to waste." 

Lyse swam after him. 

No time to waste, indeed. 

The island's underwater entrance had been easy enough to locate: south of Isari's shores, there was a cave mouth surrounded by gleaming, spinning markers colored crimson. 

He had his duty to slaughter everything that gets in his way, to keep the Kojin away from his approaching allies as they searched for the vault. 

Castor inhaled, his rage slithering through every vein and pore as liquid steel, and he delved into the abyss tainting his soul. Leviathan roared in response, and Castor spiraled through the cave on the eikon's power.

The tunnel of grey stone opened into a pool, and Castor's blood screamed as he exploded above the surface in a writhing cyclone of water. Red Kojin and hovering manta rays immediately honed in on him, the turtle-men's eyes widening in shock at the intruder. 

_Kill them all! Show them how_ _Red they can really be!_

Castor unchained his rage, unchained his Darkside, and his watery avatar exploded around him, sending spears of liquid wrath streaming towards the Kojin. Screams filled his ears as beasts and servants alike were impaled and flung about by the sheer power of Castor's anger, and a cruel, feral joy sang within his twisted heart. 

His feet slammed onto the stone floor as he swept forward in a storm of blood and death, his katana whispering from its scabbard and cleaving into the Kojin's shouting reinforcements. 

"Come on, then!" Castor roared as he began heading towards the closest pathway leading elsewhere on the craggy island. "I'll kill all of you!" 

"Kill the intruder! Surround him!" A Kojin with an elaborate crest on his helmet-like head bayed, leading his kin in a screaming mass. 

Pathetic. 

Castor flicked his blade out with savage expertise, seeking the soft spots he could see in their hard bodies. Flesh opened under steel, blood and gore spraying from rent bodies as Kojin after Kojin painted their home with their offal. 

\He backed off, retreating as his pursuers became legion, a press of desperate steel and spells screaming for vengeance as Castor cut down more of their brethren. 

Castor moved through the high, rocky walls surrounding the natural fortress, resisting the urge to just reduce everything here to blood and dust and find this vault, himself. 

He'd promised Kurenai he wouldn't lose himself. 

Castor zigzagged through the maze of tunnels and sandy corridors, leaving a trickle of Kojin corpses in his wake as he slashed through every beastman foolish enough to get within reach of his steel. Ravana and Odin stirred within his soul, their minds melding with his own as they guided his killing. Zurvan hung back, amused, observing, while Garuda merely cackled at the slaughter taking place before her. 

Black petals trailed his blade's every swing, but Castor kept the eikons on a tight leash. 

 _"Easy does it, Castor,"_ Nhaama spoke, this time. 

"Don't worry, Nhaama," he responded, batting aside Kojin blades and spears with ease as his eyes followed every single strike they made with predatorial grace. "These weaklings aren't even capable of bringing me down." 

More Kojin met his blade and fell, howling in agony and rage as their shelled bodies thudded upon the stony ground. One beastman lunged with his spear, but Castor ducked under it and lunged, shoving the blade into the creature's neck with a loud crunch. 

Its brother lunged with two razor sharp daggers ready to fillet Castor, but the beast may as well be moving in slow motion. Castor spun, his katana still wedged in the first's throat, and snapped his elbow into the second's face. 

The Kojin roared in pain and stumbled back, and Castor wrenched his blade free from the first's corpse before bringing it against the second's neck. 

Two corpses and a head thudded heavily to the stony ground as warm blood sprayed across Castor's face, and his duster billowed behind him as he pivoted to face the dwindling horde that was now beginning to hang back, fearful of the singing steel that had killed countless of their brethren. 

The linkpearl in his ear buzzed, filling with Alisaie's voice: "Castor, we found the vault on the northern edge of the island! There were a few guards, but all the Kojin are screaming about is this water-blessed monster that's been carving apart their kin!" 

"I'll make my way back towards you after I deal with these vermin," Castor responded, lowering his hand from the pearl. 

"Be careful!" Lyse's voice pleaded. 

"I will be," Castor gripped his weapon in both hands, eyeing the ranks of beastmen before him. 

"Kill him! All at once, now!" The commander bellowed, even though his voice trembled with fear. 

"The vault!" Another Kojin began screaming from behind. "They're at the vault!" 

"W-what?! Thieves!" The commander roared. "This one was a distraction!"

Castor and his Darkside smiled as one. "Figured it out, have you? Well, you're too late." 

They plunged into the ranks of the Red Kojin, carving a path through the tightly pressed, shell-covered bodies. 

The beastmen screamed and died in a beautiful, intoxicating chorus, their blood warm and salty at the same time as it sprayed across Castor. The stench of death permeated his nostrils, and strength ripped through his body in response to the carnage. 

_Weak! You are all weak! Insignificant vermin!_

_"Castor! Focus! Please!"_

"I am focusing!" He made his way to the northern reaches of the island, leaving bodies in his wake as more of the feeble beastmen attempted to chase him down. 

"Hey, Castor! Over here!" Lyse was calling, waving to him from where she stood before some great stone doors that were opening steadily behind them. 

Half a dozen Kojin corpses lay strewn about them, Dorgono and Gorge the two who were covered in the most scratches and blood. Castor could smell the blood rage churning from them, readying themselves for more battle and killing. 

"Come on!" Alisaie called, and Castor followed them into a massive cavern dominated by a gleaming pool. 

Countless treasures of all kind lined the shell-like stages and shelves, gleaming with evidence of the reverent care they were given. The group strode out onto the shell-shaped stone platform dominating the pool, the evening skies shining in fiery hues from above. 

A shrine of sorts lay immediately before them, holding a sword and what looked like a mirror of sorts, a third dais laying empty in between them, where Castor presumed the Magatama went. 

"Thieves! Trespassers!" enraged screaming immediately filled the space, and Castor glanced back at the horde of Kojin standing in the entrance. "Seize them!"

His blood roared within his veins, screaming for slaughter, and then it froze as the magatama in his pocket began to ripple with aetherial power. 

"Come on, then!" Lyse called, readying her fists. "I'm more than ready for another round!" 

Light flared behind him, and Castor bit down a torrent of cursing as that enormous sword and mirror rose into the air, radiating power. 

"Oh, you  _cannot_  be serious."

The two objects spun and danced about the air, and Castor held out the jewel that he'd claimed. The magatama flew upwards to join the other two, bathed in light as they began spiraling around one another. 

And then their aerial dance halted, and a presence filled Castor's senses. 

 _"Who hath made us whole?"_ A powerful voice resonated, and Castor groaned. 

"Hark! A great kami stirs! Yes! Yes! A kami of the sacred treasures!" The Kojin commander announced. "O great Kami, we beseech your intercession! We, who have faithfully guarded your blade and glass for generations! Your faithful Kojin!" 

"If I made you whole, it was not by choice," Castor growled, sensing the presence draw its focus to him. 

 _"Thou didst freely deliver our jewel unto thine enemy's own treasure vault?"_ The voice radiated an odd, boisterous joy. 

"I did," Castor could feel great power building around the kami, the eikon to be formed. 

The voice laughed jovially.  _"How auspicious! We do commend thee, son of man! Such audacity is deserving of celebration! Exultation! A contest of wills to mark the occasion! Let lines be drawn! Let sides be chosen! And for their loyalty, we will stand with the caretakers of our greater part!"_

Of course.

"This isn't good," Alisaie murmured as the party drew steel. 

 _"Hearken to us, shelled ones: on this day your wish shall be granted! Curse neither your fate nor its executor, children of man, for we are of the divine! Of both heaven and earth! The ringing silence; the raging calm...All_ _riseth_ _and_ _falleth_ _at the whim of capricious fortune!"_ More power was gathered around the relics.  _"Assume your marks upon the stage and embrace the coming chaos!"_

The three relics devolved into blinding orbs of aetherial power, forcing all to look away as the power condensed into a singular, mighty entity. Castor looked back just in time to watch an armored giant hit the platform, his body as blue as the waves, with a great plume that burned with the sunset. The massive sword was clutched in its hands, and cold rain began to fall as the fiery skies were blanketed with dark clouds. 

Lightning flared and thunder boomed as the eikon laughed joyously, brandishing its massive weapon. 

_"We are_ _Susano_ _, and in revelry do we rejoice!"_

The wind picked up, icy daggers of water splicing into whatever flesh Castor had uncovered as he glared at the Lord of the Revel. 

"Oh gods, that's a primal!" Lyse gasped. "There's a primal standing before us!"

"And a horde of angry Kojin at our backs," Castor could hear the scowl on Alisaie's voice. "I do not like this contest one bit..." 

Castor gathered power in his katana's blade, letting his rage fill it, and unleashed a wave of dark power at the stunned Kojin. The beastmen were brutally slashed into, the force of the blow hurling them out of the vault. 

"Go, I'll need you to keep those vermin away from here while I deal with Susano," he growled, taking slow, deliberate steps towards the eikon as icy rain pelted his face and drenched his duster.

"We can't even get close to him without risking being tempered to his will," Alisaie murmured, the bitterness in her voice a small tonic to the rage that was now churning freely through Castor's veins. "Come! Let's lead the Kojin on a wild-chocobo chase around the island!" 

"Good luck," Dorgono called, her next utterance a fierce battle cry as she surged towards the Kojin. 

Gorge followed suit, and Castor took a moment to marvel at how much Dorgono had opened up to him. Perhaps she might one day reciprocate his affections, who knew?

Lyse hesitated; Castor could feel her eyes burning into his back. 

"Go, Lyse! I'll be fine!" He barked, shooting her a grin as he glanced back. "I'll see you after I deal with him." 

Lyse nodded, determination burning within her eyes. "I have faith in you, Castor!" 

Then she dashed out with the others, and the vault doors sealed him inside with the eikon. 

Castor inhaled deeply, delving deeper and deeper into the abyss of the eikon souls within himself as he returned his focus to Susano. "This will be the perfect time to test something out..." 

He found Ravana easily enough, the Lord of the Hive's bloodlust and yearning for battle already crackling through Castor's own veins, and Castor drew that violent soul into his own. He pulled it up from the depths, up and up and up, willing the power to expand, to feed off the ocean of his own life force. 

Aether rippled and crackled around him, expanding with pure violence as Castor pictured the first time he'd seen the Primal. Fiery aether exploded from his body, resonating with war and blood as it coalesced into four massive scimitars of pulsing light above his head. 

Susano cocked his head, jovial laughter spilling from him as he watched, his blade ready. 

The scimitars hit the ground around Castor, twisted, and then began rotating around him. He pulled more and more and more of Ravana into his body, releasing him piece by piece from the aetherial prison as a tornado of aether sprang to life around him, filling his vision and soul with the essence of war. 

His body lifted from the ground as the blades spun closer and closer, and then aetherial power expanded. 

His skin became thick, armored chiton, another pair of arms extending from his side as insectoid wings sprouted from his back. Castor Entialpoh became war. 

He became violence and steel, incarnate, as the four scimitars slid neatly into his grasp. With a roar that echoed to the very depths of his conjoined soul, Castor ripped apart the tornado of aether and spun his blades in a shining whirlwind, a voice that was not his erupting from his maw. 

**_"DANCE TO THE SONG OF RINGING STEEL!"_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DANCE TO THE SONG OF RINGING STEEL


	18. To Bend With The Wind

This power...it made Castor's head spin and shudder upon the waves of war and violence. Susano's joyous laughter sparked rage within the burning haze, and Castor willed his great avatar forward. 

 ** _"Furious as a blaze!"_** Ravana's cry shook Castor to his core as the eikon lunged at the kami, gleaming scimitars flashing out with ease. 

Castor could feel all four limbs on his body, pulsating with strength as they carved intricate patterns in the air with the scimitars. Such power...

Susano laughed boisterously as he swept his own blade out, meeting two of the scimitars in a mighty crash that made Castor's insectoid limbs shake. The four arms would take some getting used to, that was for sure. 

Castor pressed on, carving lines of light through the air with each powerful stroke. Steel shrieked and skittered as the eikons clashed again and again, Susano's damn laugh bouncing about Castor's soul as hot fury drove his four blades forward again and again. 

He slashed, hacked, thrust, drawing upon the power of war incarnate to gouge the shell-shaped stage with his four blades. Susano gave ground, his laugh never faltering even as he desperately tried to parry the hail of steel descending upon him. 

 _"The seas part for we alone!"_ Aether condensed, and through the haze of the falling rain, Castor saw Susano raise his sword high. 

The kami swung downwards, and the arena erupted in a wave of water, bending around Susano as if split down the middle. Castor let Ravana's will take the lead, gathering the eikon's power, and erected three shields of mighty aether to his front and sides. 

He didn't even feel the rain or the cold as Susano's torrent crashed against Ravana's shields, parting before the strength of war. The Lord of the Hive was howling for blood, yearning to plunge his four blades into the wave giant before him; carve it into pieces. 

Castor yielded further control, but only a tiny amount, to the eikon. Ravana drew more aether up from their combined stores, and his scimitars merged into two massive, burning greatswords. 

**_"BLEED!"_ **

Crackling, raging aether exploded around them as Ravana lunged, spinning and hacking with murderous grace at the laughing Susano. Castor's eyes flicked to Susano's eyes, and he saw power rippling within those twin oceans. 

What the hell was it gathering power for? 

Ravana ducked under Susano's blade and lashed out, his left greatsword smashing into the kami's armored torso and gouging out a great, burning gash upon it. Castor's body shuddered with the pure violence of the hit, the salty scent of the sea intensifying as blue ichor leaked from the wound. 

Susano dissolved into water, vanishing upon the stage, and the rest of the vault faded away into an endless, mist-covered sea. Castor stood alone on the stage, sensing incredible aetheric power gathering beneath the surface. 

The water erupted as Susano, now grown into massive proportions-similar to what Sephirot had done in Azys Lla- rose from the depths, his rapier now a massive sword that dwarfed Ravana. 

 _"Wild and pure and forever free!"_ The kami took that impossibly huge sword in both hands and swung downwards. 

Ravana lifted both of his own greatswords and crossed them into an X shape, man and eikon both gathering every ounce of strength they could muster. Susano's titanic blade crashed onto both swords with the force to shatter the world, itself, eikon and man both struggling to keep their guard from shattering under the might of the raging sea. 

_KILL!_

_KILL!_

_KiLl_ _!_

The raging chant of blood and death surged through Castor's blood, howling and shrieking, baying for ruin and destruction. He obeyed: two burning swords heaved upwards with the strength to split the very heavens, red-gold burning into the deepest of blues as two blades gouged into one. 

Susano reeled backwards from the blinding light of War, the strength of Carnage, but still his damn laughter never faded. The kami took his weapon in both hands once more, gathering what remained of his strength. 

Castor could already see that Susano was expending too much of the aether stored within the three relics that had given him form too quickly. Yet, somehow, the damn thing was still enjoying himself. 

 _"REJOICE!"_ That massive blade fell, with far more force than before, and even Ravana balked at the prospect of meeting it. 

The eikon dove towards the side, planting his chitinous heels into the stage and erecting more shields around him. Steel met stage, and the world collapsed before him in a torrent of seawater. 

Waves heaved against Ravana's shields, pounding and howling with the force of a thousand fat chocbos, but neither man nor eikon yielded so much as an inch. 

The tsunami finally settled, and Castor found himself back in the regular stage of the vault, which was oddly untouched by the raging eikon and kami. 

 _"Resilient soul! I salute you!"_ Susano burst from the pool, now handling a smaller version of his formerly massive blade. 

Was that it? Another overwhelming display of power that sapped the attacker of almost all aether? Castor was still fresh, still burning with aether from the deep, deep wells that dwelled within his soul. 

How disappointing. He gave Ravana the reins again, directing the Lord of the Hive to end this here and now. 

The eikon agreed, drawing from the fiery wells of their combined aether to fill him. Scarlet butterflies materialized around the vault, fluttering about and shedding aether. Susano watched, an impressed chuckle escaping his lips.

And then the insects morphed into burning blades, circling around Susano. Ravana lunged, grabbing the closest blade and slamming it into Susano's leg. The kami howled and fell as the impaled limb caved, swiping with his own weapon even as Ravana dashed forward and took ahold of a second blade. One by one, the swords were thrust into Susano's body, each one hitting home with a viscous spray of ichor and the crunch of bone under steel. 

Only when enough blades protruded from the kami's body to rival a voodoo doll did Ravana finally tower over Susano, readying his last two weapons to strike. 

 ** _"Rejoice in the glory of combat!"_** Two weapons joined together at the hilt, driven by Ravana's mighty strength, spun about like a burning quarterstaff. 

Man and eikon were joined together in this moment, as one, their strength combined driving the massive weapon in deadly figure eights. 

DIE!

Susano was split right down the middle, aether erupting from his rent body as the swords piercing him faded. The great kami fell apart, his body dissolving in watery aether as he vanished into nothingness. The storm dissolved almost instantly, ice and rain reverting to the warmth of the Ruby Sea.

The blade, the jewel, and the mirror thunked to the stage, empty and spent, and Castor could no longer sense Susano's presence. 

"Good," man and eikon turned back to the opening entrance to the vault. "There is yet more to be slaughtered..."

"Well, Castor's alright," Dorgono grunted, burying her axe into a Kojin's chest hard enough to nearly split his shell in half. "The rain stopped, and I don't hear that kami shouting anymore."

"Or the other one," Lyse panted through her teeth as she slammed her fists into her attackers. "Oh, please by alright, Castor!" 

Her arms ached and burned, her lungs filled with acid with each inhale. But still she had to fight! 

And so the battle raged on, all over the island as the party carved apart every Red Kojin foolish enough to attack them. Their sheer number was stagnating: they must have been called from every corner of the Ruby Sea! 

Lyse's arms were growing heavier and more sore as she thrashed her opponents, cracking shells and bones alike with each powerful swing. She looked around, gulping down air into her lungs, and realized that the group had been backed to the entrance to the underwater tunnels. 

Dorgono was bleeding from a score of wounds, as was Gorge, but both Warriors tirelessly slogged on through the battle, cleaving foes apart left and right with their mighty axes. Alisaie had parked herself by the Warriors, firing off spells like a madwoman and occasionally sending a burst of healing magic into one of the three fighters or herself.

"We're not going to last for much longer!" The girl announced. "There's just too damn many of them!" 

The Kojin were advancing over the carpet of their fallen, blades glittering murderously in the light shining from torches and moss on the walls. 

"Huh?" Lyse glanced at the torches, wondering why they hadn't been doused by the storm, and her gaze turned up to the star-speckled skies now cleared of storm clouds. 

"The rain stopped a few minutes ago," Dorgono panted through gritted teeth. "I think Castor may have won." 

"You already said that!" Alisaie snapped, ducking under a sweeping blade.

As if on cue, a Kojin's screaming voice reached the party as said beastman emerged from the chambers of the island: "Susano is slain! Slain by the shell-less one!" 

And then the screaming beastman was silenced as steel parted his head from his shoulders, letting it thunk against the stone. Castor van Entialpoh strode calmly onto the battlefield, fiery aether crackling around his person with each step. His golden hair was swaying in the breeze, the fierce brutality glittering within his irises making every Kojin present take a fearful step back. 

Lyse opened her mouth to call his name, so great was the joy burning within her breast, when the sight of what was behind him made her voice die within her throat. 

Four scimitars of white light were rotating behind Castor, long and jagged as they spiraled in a circle at his back. Lyse blinked as the light formed the visage of a full moon, just for a moment, before the spiral slowed enough to pick out the individual blades. 

"The calm before the slaughter..." Castor's voice growled, raspier and more guttural than usual, and he leveled the katana he held at the Kojin. 

The four scimitars reacted instantly: they ceased spinning and, instead, shot at the Kojin like great arrows, their blazing blades shearing through shells with ease. Castor strode forward, sliding his katana into its scabbard as his four blazing scimitars danced and whirled around him, carving and cutting and opening up the Kojin who'd been holding his friends down. 

Lyse's exhausted arms fell limply to her sides as she gazed at the massacre, her muddled mind slowly absorbing every grotesque, gory detail that had been painted before her eyes. 

Castor stopped before her, the emptiness in his eyes gouging deep cracks into Lyse's heart as he gazed at his stunned allies. With a burst of light, the fiery aether and the four swords vanished, the tightness of the air that Lyse hadn't noticed before now releasing her lungs. 

"There's smoke coming from Isari," he commented, voice back to normal and his eyes rising.

Lyse followed his gaze, immediately finding what he spoke of: dark pillar of smoke barely visible against the star-studded night. 

"The Confederates!" Dorgono cackled. "They've done it!" 

"Unless that's the Empire's work," Alisaie said ominously, taking a moment to look around. "Ugh, did we slaughter every single Red Kojin in the Ruby Sea?" 

"Close," Castor grunted. "I saw a few survivors cowering here and there as I made my way here."

Lyse nodded grimly, her mouth opening before she realized what she was doing. "What happened in there, Castor? We heard two primals!" 

Those golden eyes flicked to her. "I wished to test something, so I allowed Ravana to bond with me, and we unleashed our combined powers against Susano." 

"W-what?!" Lyse took a step back, cursed herself, and dashed over to Castor. "Like what you did with Bahamut?!"

He nodded slowly. "Yes. I must say, I quite enjoyed the boundless power of war, incarnate, raging through my veins..." 

Castor shook his head and nodded at the rising smoke. "We have no time to waste. Let's go before the rest of the Red Kojin work up the nerve to attack." 

He dove into the pool leading to the exit, spraying cold water everywhere. 

"That was terrifying," Alisaie commented. "So, I take it I'm going to be the lucky one to scold him for drawing upon the power of a Primal?" 

Dorgono shrugged. "If you want. Let's get after him." 

She splashed after Castor, vanishing under the surface, with Gorge on her heels. Lyse glanced over at Alisaie, who shrugged before diving. 

"Oh, Castor..." Lyse murmured, cold worry changing into cold everything as she, too, took the plunge. 

It was dark and frigid, making her lungs tighten, but Lyse could see Alisaie's white hair ahead and followed as quickly as she could push her limbs to move. 

She swam through the inky blackness, praying that no sharks would come after her or her bleeding companions as they rose to the surface. The depths grew lighter and lighter, until Lyse's head burst through the surface. She flung herself up, flinging strands of her hair from her face as she inhaled deeply to fill her lungs. 

"Lyse! Over here!" Alisaie was waving from the nearby shore, the others gathered around her. 

Lyse pushed her body through the cold water, shivering as her feet hit the sandy bottom. She hauled herself onto dry land, and a warm breeze coasted through. The water soaking her was expelled immediately, replaced by a crackling warmth similar to fire. 

Lyse sighed, allowing all the stress to melt out of her bones. "Castor, you're the best." 

"I know it," came his reply, and she looked over to see him grinning at her. 

Her heart skipped, a smile of her own forming as she beamed back at him. 

"Now, the village looks no worse for wear," Castor commented, turning back to Isari. "And there are a lot of Confederates running around, so I think it's safe to say that we should have no more trouble with the Imperials." 

He led them forward, his strides long on the sand as he made his way over to the closest Confederates. Castor spoke briefly to them, listening as they suggested the tavern, then headed off again. 

Lyse jogged at his side, spotting quite a few Imperial corpses being hauled away by blue-clad Confederates. 

"Ah, there you are!" Tansui was waiting for them in front of what Lyse assumed was the tavern. "You mad bastards, you! I don't know how you did it, but your crazy plan worked!" 

Castor shrugged. "It was simple, actually: break into the Red Kojin's vault while slaughtering their troops. They panicked almost immediately and sent out a distress call all across the Ruby Sea." 

Tansui chuckled. "You say that as if it were easy." 

"It was," Castor grunted, looking around. "Where's Captain Rasho? And Gosetsu?" 

"Your man Gosetsu is being looked at by a couple of our healers," Tansui's expression darkened. "The bastard's been put through one hell of a beating." 

"As for me..." Captain Rasho strode over, a wicked grin on his lips as he surveyed the village. "Your plan was flawless, Castor." 

Lyse felt a grin curve her own lips as a bruised and battered Gosetsu trudged out of the tavern after the captain, the old samurai's eyes gleaming as he took in the sight of his rescuers. 

"Ah, my friends! You made it just in time!" 

"I see that Grynewaht was not kind to you," Castor rumbled, reaching into his satchel of Soul Crystals.

"Nay, my friend! Do not concern yourself with my well-being!" Gosetsu shook his head. "Let us be off to Doma!" 

Lyse looked up to see Castor frowning, but his gaze was settled somewhere beyond the Doman. She followed his eyes to an abandoned wagon resting behind the Imperial's makeshift stage, overflowing with strange goods and wooden crates. 

"Whose wagon is that?" Castor asked. 

Rasho followed his gaze, his eyes narrowing. "Ah...that. The villagers said some Auri merchant and his wife from the Steppe had come seeking to trade for foreign supplies they hoped would sell better than their usual wares." 

"Alas, they ran right into the Imperials and were cut down," Tansui finished. "We were going to take the wagon, ourselves, unless you think you could use it?" 

Castor chuckled as his eyes roamed over the wares, striding over and examining some of the fur-lined robes that Lyse had never seen before. "Ah, Nhaama, this is a boon, indeed. I can only imagine what was going through that poor merchant's head as...Oh? He was a cheat and a liar? Well, in that case: he has served his purpose." 

"Who is he talking to?" Tansui whispered. 

"He is the Champion of Azim, the Dawn Father, and Nhaama, the Dusk Mother," Dorgono strode forward, eyeing the prizes arrayed before them. "They guide the Raen and Xaela tribes, and since Castor is their Champion, he can communicate with our patrons." 

Castor held up a massive nomad's robe that had clearly been tailored to fit his gargantuan size, colored a deep scarlet with strange black designs woven into the coarse fabric and fur. 

"What are you planning?" Alisaie asked, her eyes narrowed. 

Castor glanced up, as if surprised that they were still there. "Well, we can't really walk into a village like this, can we? If someone recognizes Gosetsu and tips off the Imperials..." 

"None in Namai would do such a thing!" Gosetsu snarled, his eyes glinting dangerously. 

Yet Castor's own suns were even more dangerous as he leveled a cold, calculating glare upon the old samurai. "So you claim, but I have seen the Empire break down even the most stalwart defenders of rebellion. After suffering under Imperial rule, especially after that failed rebellion some years past, the people will be bent onto their knees, if not broken. They will do everything they can to keep the Imperials off their backs, even if it means betraying one of their own, all for the chance to live even another day." 

Lyse tried not to wince at his words, but she couldn't stop the way her fists clenched at her sides. What those Imperials had done to him...had made him do...she would never forgive them!

"You plan to disguise yourself as an Auri merchant?" Alisaie remarked.

"An Auri merchant and his wife," Castor held up a smaller robe, tailored with similar designs as his own, "since that's what the Imperial scouts reported." 

"Wife? What wife?" Dorgono scowled at Castor as all eyes fell on her. 

The only one small enough to fit in that robe who also happened to be a Xaela. 

"Don't they know you're dead, then?" 

Castor shrugged. "The traders that we're going to impersonate are dead, yes, but the only Imperials who know about their demise are the corpses being piled onto the fires over there." 

Dorgono squeaked, as if finally putting two and two together. "M-me?! You want me to pretend to be your wife?!" 

Lyse fought down the urge to rip that robe from Castor's hands and don it, herself, just to call herself his wife. The thought made her cheeks heat, and she turned her gaze away from Castor before he could see. 

"You're the only Xaela female present," Castor replied. "The villagers won't likely believe that I took a non-Au Ra to be my wife if I'm a trader from the Steppe." 

When Lyse finally fought back the blush that had heated her cheeks and looked up to see Dorgono glaring at Castor, who was holding the second outfit out for her. 

"Like I care what happens to Doma!" Dorgono snapped. "I'm here to fight for my tribe!" 

"Nhaama sent that trader here to aid me in fulfilling what I came here to do," Castor said coldly. "The Nadaam is still some time away, so I have no need to go the Steppe just yet." 

Dorgono growled, clutching her fists tightly at her side, but she glanced over at Gorge. He nodded, and Dorgono sighed. 

"Fine, I'll pretend to be your wife, but if you try to kiss me or show any sort of physical affection..." 

Castor rolled his eyes. "I have no intentions of doing such things, Dorgono." 

Dorgono unslung her axe and shoved it at Castor, grabbing the robe he held out for her before stomping off somewhere more private. Castor carefully pushed the axe underneath a layer of furs and blankets, concealing it well enough so that a casual glance would reveal nothing. 

"Alright...now, since we have no horses or chocobos," he muttered, putting two fingers to his mouth and giving a sharp whistle. 

A swirling dark void erupted to life before them, shimmering with the same twilight aura that Odin exuded, and the massive Sleipnir materialized before them. 

"Hello, old friend," Castor patted the blood-red mane fondly, Sleipnir responding with an affectionate nuzzle against Castor's hand. "No riding into battle today, I'm afraid." 

The dark stallion took one look at the wagon and the hitches in front of it before turning his head back to his summoner and actually nodding. 

"You don't mind?" Castor's voice was filled with surprise for just a brief moment before he, too, nodded. "Right, then let's get this over with." 

Lyse watched as Castor expertly strapped Sleipnir into the harness, an occasional grunt and curse escaping his lips as he struggled with some of the leather. 

"Sleipnir, you're a little too large to fit perfectly," Castor spoke after several moments. "Could you shrink a little?" 

"Shrink?" One of the Confederates who'd come over to see what was going on. 

Another snorted. "Like that horse is gonna- BY THE KAMI!" 

Sleipnir's body rippled with dark aether as it actually shrunk in size right in front of everyone. Castor nodded appreciatively as he finished strapping the harness on, gently tugging at different parts to ensure that it wasn't too tight or too loose. 

"There we go. How does it feel?" 

The dark horse snorted and wiggled a bit, testing the harness, before nodding. 

"Good. Let me know if something starts digging into your armor or flank," Castor glanced over his shoulder. "Ah, there you are." 

Lyse followed his gaze to where Dorgono was stomping back towards the party, tripping a bit over the long nomad's robes that she now wore. It was scarlet, just like Castor's, and was also etched with the same designs. 

The smaller Au Ra shoved the armor she was carrying onto the wagon before turning back to her 'husband', glaring at him. "Well? Do I look like a wife?" 

Castor gave a grin that held no humor in it. "You look like you're going to rip me to shreds. Perfect." 

Lyse frowned. "Um, why is that perfect?" 

"Because Dorgono's going to be playing the part of the disgruntled wife who had absolutely no desire to leave the Steppe for Namai," Castor answered as he quickly concealed Dorgono's armor underneath the wagon's wares. "I'm the happy salesman who insisted on dragging her along." 

"Uh, happy salesman?" Alisaie spoke this time, her voice dry with sarcasm. "You look like you could crush boulders with your bare hands." 

Castor chuckled, his posture relaxing and the aura of menace permeating the air around him fading almost instantly as a good-natured, harmless smile formed upon his lips. His golden eyes gleamed with warmth and friendliness, now devoid of any of a warrior's ferocity and cold calculation. 

Lyse felt her defenses lower immediately, her lips curving into a smile of their own as she met Castor's inviting gaze. 

"That...is terrifying how well it works," Alisaie muttered.

"I'm expecting him to start peddling his wares any second now," one of the Confederates agreed, and Lyse glimpsed several of the pirates hurriedly stuffing coinpurses back into their pockets or belts. 

Castor chuckled, the noise soft and inviting. "Let's get going, then. We'll head into the village first while you keep watch." 

Gosetsu nodded. "Very well, my friend. Come! Follow me!" 

"Uh, Castor? You haven't changed," Alisaie commented, and light flared around the Warrior of Twilight. 

"You were saying?" Castor was now clad in those gargantuan robes, presenting him with a fierce and almost tribal presence that set Lyse's fine hairs on edge. 

"I stand corrected," the young Sharlayan muttered. "So, what do you want us to do while you approach the village on the wagon?" 

Castor climbed onto the driver's seat of the wagon, making the wood creak under his weight until green wind aether flickered around him. "Ugh, I'm too large...this should help. I want you to trail us from behind after Gosetsu shows us the path. Stay hidden, since I'm certain the village will be closely watched after the attack on Isari." 

Lyse nodded, watching as Castor gave one last glance at the sea before hauling Dorgono up onto the wagon at his side. The two Au Ra settled themselves onto the seat, Castor taking Sleipnir's reins and gently flicking them. 

The black steed snorted, as if saying "I know what to do", then trotted forward, armor clinking with each step it made. 

Castor chuckled. "I know you do, but I have to keep up appearances." 

Lyse blinked: how had she been able to read Sleipnir so easily? The only time she'd ever gotten close to animals was when she was swinging her fists at them. 

"Gosetsu, where's the path to Namai?" Castor asked, snapping Lyse from her thoughts.

"That way, my friend: the path is there!" 

Sleipnir trotted forward, his hooves clopping against the dusty earth, and the wagon rattled after the black beast. Smoke still stung Lyse's nose as she watched them go, waiting for Alisaie's signal to begin trailing after the carriage. 

The wagon rattled further down the path, almost going out of sight in the forest when Alisaie finally nodded. 

"Let's go: that's far enough," she ordered, and the group set off. 

So, this was Doma...Castor could almost feel the oppression of the Imperial tyranny filling the air with an almost palpable weight. Such sorrow and pain...he could almost hear the screams of those who had died for their nation echoing on the warm breeze. 

Dorgono fidgeted at his side. "This damn robe is itchy!"

It was, but Castor ignored it. He sent a burst of wind aether through Dorgono's garb, and she sighed. 

"Thanks...so, what would you want me to do when we reach the village?" The smaller Au Ra had calmed down impressively, her pale eyes locking onto Castor as he turned his head to her. 

"Just be you, but more so like an annoyed wife who really wants to punch her husband," Castor replied, lazily turning gaze to the path ahead. "And if they find your armor, you're the warrior of the two of us since I'm just a merchant trying not to anger my lovely wife." 

He just had to do his part. 

"What do you look for in a potential wife, Castor?" Dorgono asked after several moments of silence as the forest flowed by. 

He paused, wondering perhaps he'd heard wrong until he looked over to see Dorgono with an expectant look upon her face. 

"What do I look for in a potential wife?" He repeated slowly, his heart lurching as she nodded. "To tell the truth: I don't ever see myself engaging in such a privilege." 

Dorgono cocked her head to the side, the gesture more feline than naught, her eyes narrowing. "Why do you say that?" 

Castor returned his gaze to the forested path, his keen ears picking up the light footsteps of his allies in the brush behind them. "If I ever do fall for someone, then the best thing I could do would be to let them live without me. I have too many enemies; too many who would be more than willing to harm the one I love just to get at me. Any lover of mine would instantly have the world's largest target painted upon their backs, and I do not want that." 

Deep within him, his anger stirred, writhing, yearning: another reminder of what terror he would have to protect his beloved from, if he ever took one. 

"That's understandable," Dorgono mused, and he saw her nod out of the corner of his eye. "But, what if your wife actually was a warrior of no small renown? If she could defend herself just as easily as you could?" 

Castor sighed. "Are you offering, Dorgono?" 

Her fist slammed into his shoulder, resulting in a hissed curse escaping her lips. "By the gods, your muscles are like steel! How the hells did you get so strong?" 

"Years upon years of training and fighting gods," Castor answered. "Along with the power of said gods." 

Dorgono muttered another curse under her breath before glancing ahead at the path. "Are we getting close?" 

Vegetation rustled behind them: "Aye, my friends! Namai should be just ahead!"

"Fantastic, now shut up," Castor could feel the eyes of Imperial scouts watching their every move, hidden in the foliage. 

They rode in silence, making a show of examining their surroundings as the carriage rattled on. Sleipnir snorted, his ember eyes already picking out the positions of each Imperial watching the carriage. 

"I see them now," Castor murmured, absently toying with the reins as his mount's enhanced senses filtered through Odin's presence. "Dorgono, look annoyed." 

He glanced over to see her glaring at him. "Good. Now, once the village comes into view, the Imperials should be able to hear us, so I want you to complain." 

Dorgono's head tilted down just slightly, enough that a faraway observer would only see her glaring. "Tell me when." 

The carriage rattled through a red gate of sorts, opening to a sparser forest, and Castor now saw the village off in the distance. It was built into the surrounding rocky canyon walls, rice paddies lying in the different levels of the canyon on either side. Simple wooden homes with thatch roofs rose here and there, along with what Castor assumed were storehouses for the harvests, since they were made of stone. 

"There it is, love!" Castor fell into his role, willing his battle-tested body to relax despite the threats now watching the wagon like hawks. "We should find some excellent trades in the village!"

Dorgono growled softly at his side. "Remind me again why you insisted on dragging us here. Surely Reunion would have been good enough?" 

Castor snorted, giving a jaunty wave to an older man he could see sitting at a fire in front of a shack. "Hail, good fellow!" 

The man stared, his eyes narrowing. 

Castor lightly tugged on the reins, and Sleipnir grumbled as he slowed to a stop. "Is that Namai, pray tell? Some of the folks in Isari said this village would prove better for trading my wares from the Steppe!" 

"A trader from the Steppe?" The Doman grunted, the smell of roasting meat and tanned leather reaching Castor's keen nose. "Would be better off just staying there: we don't have the coin to pay you." 

Castor let an easy smile form upon his lips as he shook his head. "Nay, sir! I am a trader, not a merchant! I am certain I have some wares that your people would be willing to trade for some bamboo or this...rice I've heard is a delicacy?" 

The man's scowl softened a bit. "A trader, huh? I heard some Imperials talking about you while I was hunting, earlier...Why are you here?" 

"Ah, do you mean those pleasant, black-garbed fellows?" Castor shook his head. "They were rather scary but let us through after searching us for contraband. Luckily, they were preoccupied with something else in the village! Didn’t look too hard!" 

"I told you we should have just stayed home," Dorgono scoffed. "I don't know what your fascination with Doman wares came from, but this seems like a waste of time!" 

Castor laughed and placed a long arm around Dorgono's shoulders, a warning flashing in her eyes as she met his gaze. "Ah, my dearest heart! Whatever would I do without your bright company at my side? Doman wares will sell very well in Reunion, you know this!" 

"Says the one who nearly drowned in a rice paddy the last time we left the Steppe!" Dorgono growled, a tiny smirk forming on her lips as Castor glared at her. "I told you to leave it alone!"

The Doman chuckled. "I think I can see who holds the real power between the two of you. Better listen to your wife next time, eh, friend?" 

"A lesson I will not be soon forgetting!" Castor beamed, releasing Dorgono as she growled another warning. "After all, would not do to upset the woman who single-handedly saved my sorry rear from several savage Gulo Gulos when I was foraging! How she settled down with the likes of me is the greatest mystery of the Steppe!" 

The Doman raised an eyebrow as he looked Castor up and down. "The likes of you, indeed..." 

"He's scrawnier than he looks, trust me," Dorgono leaned over, a devilish grin on her lips. "The robes tend to add quite a few pounds to him." 

"Hey, now!" Castor pretended to take offense at that comment. "My mother made me these robes!" 

"Well, if you're going to trade in the village, keep an eye out for the Imperials," the Doman spoke after containing his laughter, but Castor could see the fear still gleaming in the very back of his eyes. "The ones around here might just decide to take your wagon and kick you out."

"I'll keep that in mind, friend!" Castor cast a glance over the wares in the back of the wagon, his eyes falling on some black-shafted arrows. He reached back and grabbed two quivers before offering them to the Doman. "Here, I think a skilled hunter such as yourself could use some quality Steppe-made arrows! Free of charge, of course, in thanks for the information!" 

Dorgono sighed. "Giving away our wares again, dear? Then again, he may be the only one who could use them." 

The Doman glanced at the forest before accepting the quivers and hurriedly stuffing them under a sack. "Thank you: I'll be sure to put them to good use. Good luck." 

"To you as well!" Castor flicked the reins and Sleipnir trotted forward.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Dorgono leaned against Castor.

"I thought you said you weren't going to do any displays of affection,  _husband_ ," she growled, and Castor raised an eyebrow at the irony. 

"I promised I wouldn't kiss you or any major displays," he grunted, eyeing the layout of the village as it drew closer. "Some smaller ones might be necessary to sell the deception, but I won't go far. And you're currently leaning on me." 

She elbowed him, followed by another soft hiss of pain.

Castor caught himself tensing, turning into a soldier once more, and hurriedly fought his instincts. He urged his muscles to relax, his mouth to curve into an anticipating, lazy smile as Sleipnir trotted over a narrow wooden bridge. It took everything he had to not blast the Imperials watching them and the village. 

The crystal around his neck warmed, humming softly as it detected its twin nearby, and Castor's heart did a somersault within his chest. 

_She's close...so close..._

He couldn't sense her presence, but he didn't have the time to try as villagers clad in simple clothes began gathering to watch him, their eyes narrowed with fear or suspicion. 

"Hello, my friends!" He waved like the overeager merchant he was meant to be, hot rage slithering through his veins as several of the poor people flinched. 

There were a couple beastmen, too: wolves in similar garb as the others, their gleaming eyes burning into Castor as he halted Sleipnir. 

"I am but a humble trader from the Azim Steppe, seeking to trade some of my wares in return for some supplies of rice!" Castor hopped down and bowed. "Such delicacies may be common here, but they are hard to come by on the Steppe, I assure you!" 

"If I catch anyone trying to steal anything off the wagon, I'll cut your hands off for good measure," Dorgono announced, a murderous gleam in her eyes as she hefted her axe from its hiding spot. 

Castor made a good show of yelping and shoving the weapon down. "N-no need for that, love! These are but honest, hard-working people, not unlike our family back home!" 

He shot an embarrassed grin back at the Domans, noting with satisfaction how the gesture made most relax. The wolves were frowning, eyes narrowed as they took in his scent, but they remained silent. 

Until one wolfman stepped forward, hesitantly, his movements watched by his fellows.

"D-do you have any meat?" He asked in a soft, yet strong growl. "I could trade you some bamboo shoots and rice if it would please you." 

Castor made his face brighten as he hurriedly rummaged through the wagon. "Indeed I do, sir! I have a several choice cuts from buuz and dzos, both!" 

He pulled out a small sack of the meat mentioned, hoping he'd pronounced the names Dorgono had given him correctly as he quickly took a whiff of the products. Still fresh. He offered the sack to the wolfman, who looked as if he would faint as he opened the lip and peered inside with wide eyes.

"T-these are exquisite!" The wolfman barked. "Are you certain just what I offered will be enough?" 

Castor nodded, meeting those wide eyes with a reassuring grin. "More than enough, my friend! I have an array of tools some of the tribes use to till the land, as well, if any of you feel you wish to see them!" 

Several more of the villagers came up, hesitantly, asking with soft voices about one thing or another that they may need. Castor easily accommodated them, his sharp gaze catching every fearful look and the way these poor, beaten people stumbled about throughout the trading process.

They were scared and beaten, living under Imperial oppression having ground them down until they could do naught but survive day by day. Their faces, even when they lit up with his generous trading offers, were haggard and sunken, eyes dulled with fear and hardship. Many of the wolves were missing patches of fur or some dagger-like teeth.

Even the air was heavy with dread and oppression. 

Sleipnir snorted, startling several of the villagers, and Castor reached out with his senses. The Imperials had gotten bored and left, if those empty spaces were any indication. Good. 

Castor straightened, drawing all eyes to him as he cleared his throat. "Alright, everyone, the Imperial spies are no longer watching us, so I'll make this quick: I came from the Steppe not to trade, but to give you all supplies I'm certain a suffering village would need." 

More fear, more hesitation. 

He held his hands up in a gesture of peace. "We of the Steppe are not blind to Doma's suffering, but so few of us actually want to do something. Consider everything here a gift from your neighbors." 

With that, he and Dorgono hurriedly began the process of unloading everything on the wagon, even what the villagers had traded for the 'wares'. 

"Why are you doing this?" A young man with a freckled face, wearing a yellow tunic, asked, pushing a younger girl behind him. 

Castor gave a sad smile, letting his true colors shine just for a moment. "Merely trying to help those who need it. Most of these supplies can be stored easily with your rice harvests, and those herbs can be used to keep pests out of your paddies without potentially damaging your crops or the water they draw on." 

"W-why are you carrying armor in here?" One of the villagers had caught a glimpse of Dorgono's equipment, and fearful gasps echoed from the others. 

"It's my wife's," Castor explained quickly, again raising his hands in a placating gesture. "She couldn't wear it, not in these lands, but she wanted to keep it close in case we came under attack. I have no intentions of giving you arms or armor that could draw Imperial suspicion and ire. Only supplies."  

"I can speak for myself, dear," Dorgono said drily, and Castor gave her a wry grin. 

"I know, but I get the feeling you'd rather curse me out at the moment." 

She laughed, the lightness and warmth behind it drawing a more genuine smile to Castor's lips as he grinned back. "You aren't wrong, love!"

At least she'd stopped glowering at the villagers and menacing the poor people with her axe. And she'd called him 'love', putting a bit more effort into her role. Impressive. 

An older man, his skin dark with bruises, limped forward, his eyes dull with the suffering he had to be enduring. "Truly? You're just giving us all this?" 

Castor nodded, resisting the urge to just whip out the Soul of the White Mage and ease the poor man's pain. "I am, sir. I believe I have some tonics that can ease your pain." 

A slow, agonized nod from the elder. "Thank you...truly..." 

Castor found the tonics and passed them to the old man, who hobbled away with the aid of a couple others. That done, he glanced at the rather impressive pile of food and supply crates and bags that now sat on the ground beside him. 

"Where would this best be stored?" He asked, and one of the wolfmen came forward with a rather stern-looking young man. 

"We'll show you." 

The sun was beginning to fall below the horizon by the time Castor finished helping the villagers haul away their new spoils, his anger growing with the evidence of their horrid treatment by the Imperials. Their stores were sparse, the Imperials having helped themselves to the harvests a week past, the villager named Isse explained, but Castor's supplies filled the storehouse quite well. 

He heaved the last crate into place among the others, careful to not upset the packs of rice he could see before stepping outside into the cooler twilight. 

"I think that's everything," Castor grunted, glancing at the now-empty wagon. 

One of the wolfmen nodded as he closed the door. "Thank you, stranger, truly. Such kindness is...unheard of, but we will not forget what you have done for us." 

"We weren't just going to sit idly by and let you suffer more than you already have," Castor replied. "I hate to just up and leave, but I fear the Imperials may yet return, and I don't want them to see my wagon empty." 

The wolfman frowned. "Won't the ones by Isari see you?" 

"No," Castor shook his head. "We'll ditch the wagon and slip past the patrols. I might be large, but I can slip past Steppe tigers without alerting them." 

Dorgono strode forward, now dressed in her armor. "And if anyone gives us trouble, they'll answer to me. Now, come, we must be off!" 

Several of the villagers bowed, soft farewells escaping their lips as heavy heads rose up to gaze upon Castor once again. He returned the bow, wishing them well, then he and Dorgono climbed back onto the wagon. 

Sleipnir snorted again and tugged them back the way they'd come, and Castor's neck prickled as another pair of eyes settled upon him, following his every move. It took everything he had to not turn around and see who was looking. He swiveled his head slightly and saw a small pool at the lowest level of the village, the lone fisherman standing ashore giving Castor a hard, calculating stare. 

Castor met that stare, not making it obvious to the other villagers, and the fisherman jerked his chin off to the side: a request. Castor nodded. 

They rode the wagon further back, passing the hunter and his shack once more, then passed through the red gates. Castor unhooked Sleipnir the moment they were out of sight and let the mount fade into darkness, hauling the wagon to a cusp of trees and shoving it into the growth as soon as Dorgono got down. 

"What now? Are you going to meet that fisherman?" Dorgono asked, her façade gone.

Castor nodded. "I am. Get the others and let them know what's going on but try to stay out of sight of the village. I'll give you a warning if I sense any Imperial scouts."

Without waiting for Dorgono to answer, Castor drew upon his Soul of the Ninja and let it fill him, his body lightening and hollowing until he felt his body meshing into the surrounding world. He slipped off, keeping a tight rein on his anger lest it give him away, and slithered back into the forest. 

Greens and browns melted together as he ghosted through the foliage, his footsteps naught but a slight wind cruising through bush and over earth and his body a seamless shadow. Namai came back into sight as he slunk through the lengthening shadows being cast by the setting sun, ignoring the idle chatter of the villagers as he located the 'fisherman' standing by the cliffs surrounding his pond. 

"And you are?" He growled, making the poor bastard jump and reach for a knife tucked into his belt. 

"Ah! By the Kami: don't do that!" The man's heart was pounding, his fear a heavy stench as wide eyes finally picked out Castor in the shadows.

"Had to be certain you weren't selling me out," Castor purred, keeping himself concealed from the other villagers as the 'fisherman' cast his line back into the water. "I take it you're with the Liberation Front?" 

"I am," the sentry answered, his gaze falling to the pond once more. "And I take it you're the reason the Imperials have been on guard these past few hours? I swear, our scouts all over the region have been reporting that the occupying force has suddenly become skittish, tense, jumping at the shadows around them even more than usual." 

"Not I," Castor frowned. "The Confederacy attacked Isari to free the village from the Imperials, and to get their comrades back, so that may be why the garrisons here are so on edge." 

"This was before the attack," the sentry replied, lazily swishing his rod about. "Some of the Imperials have been talking about a broadcast or something, and now it's like the entire garrison in Doma Castle is at its own throat." 

A broadcast? Who the hell would be able to...oh, Severus, you clever bastard. Castor shook his head: so that was the purpose of the hacks, was it? He hoped the Tribune hadn't blown his cover with whatever he'd done. 

"Anyway, I take it you're Castor Entialpoh? The western hero that Yugiri won't stop yapping on about?" The sentry continued. "That crystal she never takes off has been acting weird lately, and I'm guessing that other crystal I see you wearing is the reason why?" 

Castor grinned wryly. "Unfortunately, yes. Is the entrance to your hideout under the pond?" 

"Sharp, huh? Lady Yugiri wasn't wrong when she said you had a keen mind," the sentry commented, scowling as he pulled up an empty line before casting it again. "But, yes, the entrance is down there. Is General Gosetsu with you, by any chance?" 

Castor stared at the water, his heart skipping a beat. She was close...so close! 

"He is, along with the rest of my party," he had to fight down the urge to just leap in. "Does he know the way here?" 

The sentry nodded. "He does, but he'll have to sneak in once the village settles down for the night. However...I don't think anyone would complain if you went in now." 

Castor chuckled, his heart and soul soaring as his crystal warmed once again. "Then I shall." 

He crept out of the shadows, willing his body to blend into the twilight as he stalked towards the murky water. His feet scarcely touched the shore when the sentry spoke again: 

"And thank you for the supplies you've given my village. We've desperately needed some succor, thanks to the Imperials." 

"It's what I do," Castor replied before melting into the water, leaving not even a ripple upon the surface as he drew upon Leviathan once again. 

It was deep, the murky water making sight difficult as he swam down, down, until the bottom came into sight, along with a tunnel leading to the side. Castor followed the tunnel, pushing onwards until it opened into another cistern, this one with a ladder swaying in the water. 

Castor ignored the ladder and swam upwards, the warmth of the crystal only increasing and glowing as he broke the surface and clawed his way onto the rocky ground awaiting him. 

"W-what the?!" A lone shinobi yelped from where he stood before a round door carved into the stone walls, the man reaching for a pair of knives at his belt. 

"Peace," Castor hauled himself out of the well, expelling the water from his body as he rose to his full height. "My name is Castor Entialpoh, and I have come to aid in Doma's liberation." 

The shinobi's eyes widened under his cloth veil, his hands slack as he stared. "C-Castor Entialpoh?! The Warrior of Light?!" 

Well, so much for not being recognized. Castor reached into his Armory and replaced his nomad's robes with his grey duster, allowing his katana and Zantetsuken to reclaim their places at his side once more. 

"It is you!" The shinobi gasped, hurriedly rolling the door open and dashing inside. 

Castor sighed and followed him, the tugging on his heart and soul growing stronger and stronger as he entered a massive cavern with the ruins of an aetheryte sprawled out on the ground. Dying light trickled in from the hole in the ceiling, and Castor wondered if the Imperials knew about this place as he took in the shocked Liberation fighters who'd ground to a halt at the shinobi's shouting to stare at the Au Ra. 

"He's here!" The shinobi was exclaiming excitedly, his voice bouncing off the walls. "The Warrior of Light is come!" 

Castor ignored him and reached out with his senses, taking several steps forward to better orient himself with the cave systems he could feel as he sought the one signature that mattered the most. 

Warmth, and a gentle tug on his heart, made him pause before turning back the way he'd come. 

"Castor?" Yugiri Mistwalker was standing behind him, her porcelain face bearing an expression of shock even as her wide eyes filled with boundless joy. 

Her crystal flashed, chiming softly in tune with his own as the two fully reconnected themselves.

"Hello, Yugiri."


	19. Burning Hearts

Impossible. It had to be impossible: there was no way that Castor-her beloved Castor- was standing in the House of the Fierce, his blazing golden eyes soft pools of sunlight as his lips curved into a heart melting smile. 

"Castor?" She dared to speak his name, the crystal adorning her neck shining as the aetherial bond with its twin was reaffirmed. 

All at once, the warmth of Castor's presence filled her like a great protective shroud, and Yugiri had to fight down the urge to dash forward and throw herself into his arms. 

Not while so many of her allies and subordinates were watching!

"Hello, Yugiri," Castor rumbled, the grey duster he wore shifting like great wings as he moved. 

His voice...she didn't know how much she'd missed it until this moment! 

"Milady!" The scout who'd run in shouting about Castor's arrival knelt before her. "The Warrior of Light is come!"

She raised an eyebrow at the man. "I can see that." 

He'd abandoned protocol and shouted enough to wake the dead, but Yugiri couldn't find it in herself to scold him. 

Her heart was screaming for her to leap into Castor's arms, to draw him close and listen to the thunderous pounding of his own life. 

"The Scions of the Seventh Dawn send their regards," Castor looked around at the assembled Liberation Front. "And we have come to aid in driving out Imperial occupation forces garrisoned in Doma." 

Truly? Yugiri had suspected that was the case, but to hear it from her beloved's own lips...

"The Warrior of Light, himself..." The whispers began almost immediately, and Yugiri could see the hope shining within eyes that had lost it for so long. 

Her own heart swelled with joy, even more than when she'd found Lord Hien. But...where was Gosetsu? 

Water sloshed from behind her, followed by the sounds of several bodies heaving themselves onto the stone. Yugiri turned to see Gosetsu striding towards the doors, Lady Lyse and Lady Alisaie at his side. 

"Hail, shadow-walker!" The aged samurai was grinning like a boy as he strode into the House of the Fierce. 

Then two more people hauled themselves from the well: another Auri woman with the dark scales of a Xaela and that Warrior that Castor oft trained with. What was his name, Gorge or something? 

"Yugiri!" Lyse was grinning shamelessly as she strode forward. "It's so good to see you again!" 

"Agreed," Castor's voice almost made her jump from how close it was: she hadn't sensed him approach! 

His powerful hand came to rest upon Yugiri's shoulder, her entire body relaxing at the contact. 

"I've missed you," his voice slithered into her mind, making her spine tingle.

"And I, you, my beloved," she sent back, biting her tongue to keep her from saying the words aloud. 

"What news of our master, Yugiri?" Gosetsu broke her from the reverie, the worry in his voice drawing foul guilt into her heart. 

She forced herself to step out of Castor's touch, even as her body screamed at her to return to it, and gazed at her old friend. "I met our Lord Hien on the Azim Steppe. He...he said this to me: Go to Doma and see the hearts of the people. If they tire of war and struggle, then I shall give them my head. If they desire freedom and supplication from the Empire, then I offer my blade." 

It wasn't exact-curse Castor for making her mind so wondrously muddled! - but it was enough to get the message across. 

"I see," Gosetsu frowned. "But, surely the people still crave freedom?" 

"They are tired and afraid," Castor rumbled. "When Dorgono and I surveyed the village as merchants, I could almost feel their fragile hearts. Those who are here are different: they fight with hearts filled with purpose." 

Dorgono...so that was the name of the other Xaela. A spark of possessiveness alighted Yugiri's breast, and she stepped closer to Castor. 

"Imperials are entering the village!" Another shinobi dashed inside the House, her breathing heavy. "Three of them!" 

Castor loosed a low, guttural growl as he shook his head. "They seek slaves, perhaps, or tributum, especially after the Confederates attacked their forces at Isari." 

Ah, so that was why the Imperials had been on such high alert lately...She'd heard something about some broadcast, but she wasn't familiar with Imperial technology. Perhaps Castor could help her understand that, later, when they had some time to be alone together. 

Another shinobi dashed in, hot on the heels of the second.

"W-why are you here?! You should be watching the village!" The first scout yelped. 

The second gasped heavily, trying to get her breath. "The Imperials marched off several of the villagers! They plan to use our people for slave labor!' 

Yugiri's heart warmed with rage, her hands tightening around the hilts of her blades. "We cannot let them be taken!"

There were only seconds, and if they openly engaged the Imperials...no, this had to be a stealth mission, and the only one wielding sufficient skill, aside from herself, was-

"Let's go, Yugiri," Castor ordered. "We'll trail the Imperials to where they're holding the villagers and sneak them out. So long as we do not kill anyone, the Imperials may yet attribute the escape to their subordinates." 

"You can't just leave us here!" Lyse stomped forward, her eyes wide with worry.

"He is correct," Yugiri forced her voice to remain steady and neutral even as her heart raced with joy. "We must be swift and stealthy, and the two of us are best suited for this task." 

"Stealthy? Him?" One of the Front members commented. "With that golden hair and his ridiculous size, he... Wait, where'd he go?" 

Yugiri didn't even have to look: she sensed Castor moving before her beloved friend tapped the speaker's shoulder and made the poor man shriek. 

"I trained him for months," Yugiri said over her shoulder as she offered the rest of the party a bow. "I have the utmost faith in his abilities." 

Castor reemerged at her side, his powerful presence sending waves of warmth and ecstasy into her soul. "Come. We must move quickly if we are to catch up to the Imperials." 

Yugiri nodded, fighting down her body's desire to wrap herself around him. "Agreed. We shall return as quickly as we can! For now, make our guests as comfortable as possible!" 

The two Au Ra dashed into the entrance and dove into the water as one, Castor's intentions already transferring to Yugiri as he pulled her to his chest. Water bunched up and propelled them forward through the hidden tunnel, the warmth of their closely pressed bodies sinking into Yugiri's bones. 

The duo slowed and rose to the surface, Yugiri nodding to the sentry as she and Castor silently hauled themselves into the shadows. Aether swirled, expelling the water from Yugiri's body and drying her instantly. 

Castor looked over at her, his golden eyes filled with adoration that made her heart flip within her chest. "Do you know of a place where the Imperials would take their captures?" 

"There's a Castrum not far from here: Fluminis," Yugiri's lips curled into a smile of their own. "It used to be the center of Imperial operations in Doma, but now it is little more than a supply depot." 

He nodded. "Lead the way and I shall follow." 

Yugiri knew he would: he would follow her to the ends of the earth and beyond, as she would him. Her heart...it was so light... so warm. It had been made whole at long last. 

Yugiri led him forward, the two slithering through the shadows surrounding the village as the dark veil of the sky shone with countless stars. The moon was rising; a mere sliver of silver, but Yugiri could feel the presence of Nhaama watching them. 

The two shinobi ghosted through Yanxia, slipping through the red gates inserted in between the rocky hills of the valley and opening the land into the banks of the One River. The remains of once beautiful bridges littered the banks on either side of the branches, and Yugiri immediately spotted the black and gold forms of Imperial soldiers milling about an outpost on the shore, with more soldiers patrolling the hills directly before the shinobi. 

She and Castor crept forward, making nary a sound in the darkness as they eyed their prey. 

"How do you want to do this?" His voice entered her mind. 

Perhaps now would be a good chance to test him... Yugiri reached down and pulled her blowgun from her hip, holding it out to Castor along with several bamboo darts filled with sleeping poison. 

"Put them to sleep with this," she sent. 

Castor raised an eyebrow as he stared at the tiny tool, barely bigger than a stick in his massive hands. 

"How? This thing is built for you, not me." 

Yugiri gave him a smirk. "Figure it out." 

His large hand took the tool with as much gentleness as he could muster, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he fidgeted with it. Yugiri gave him the darts, careful to not prick his skin with the poisoned tips. 

Castor looked back and forth between the blowpipe and darts, before conjuring a small wind around his fingers. Yugiri watched, curious, as Castor hooked her blowpipe to her hip and lifted each of the small darts with glowing green fingers of wind. 

He took careful aim at the patrolling soldiers in the bamboo forest and flicked his fingers, jettisoning the first two darts. The slivers of bamboo hit their marks, both soldiers falling to the ground as the sleeping poison took hold. 

Castor smirked at Yugiri before creeping down towards the banks, firing off his remaining darts. The soldiers standing on the docks and ruins crumpled simultaneously, the man on the dock almost falling into the water. 

Yugiri lurched forward, sprinting towards the structure with all the speed her legs could muster. Castor beat her to it: hauling the Imperial away from the edge before he could drown himself. 

"Those are fast-acting," Castor sent to her as he gently laid the man out on the wood. "Where to next?" 

"Castrum Fluminis is not far," Yugiri replied, gesturing towards a shallow ford they could cross. "This way." 

"Across the river?" Castor guessed, at which she nodded. "There's an easier way." 

He jumped up to the ruins of the red bridge and eyed the distance across the river, to where the other end of the bridge lay. "Seems easy enough to jump." 

"We could be seen: the Imperials have a heavy presence in the area," Yugiri warned, her gaze roaming over the beautiful landscape. 

Castor snorted. "Like those fools will ever catch us." 

He leaped over the gap like it was nothing, not even making a sound as he landed on the opposing shore. Castor turned and gestured for her to follow, his golden eyes alight with mischief that made Yugiri's heart skip a beat. 

She gathered her strength, the sweet smell of flowering plants mingling with the oiled stench of ceruleum and steel as she streaked forward. Her body was weightless as she flew over the gap, wind whipping her face and armor, and she held out an arm as Castor did the same. 

Their hands met and Castor pulled her to his chest. Warmth enveloped Yugiri's body as she buried her face into his grey duster, his wonderful musky scent filling her nostrils. 

"I've missed you," she whispered aloud, letting the full weight of those words escape her breath. 

"And I, you," Castor rumbled, the thundering of his powerful heart filling her ears as she leaned closer into his embrace. 

They had a duty to fulfil, both knew it, and they separated even as Yugiri wanted nothing more than to leap back into his arms. 

"Let's go: this way," she said through their link, squishing her yearning heart and leaping down to the soft ground. 

Castor followed suit, his silence heavy in the air as the duo crept towards Castrum Fluminis. Yugiri could feel his pain, no matter the effort he was putting into keeping it from their bound souls. It was a constant, throbbing ache that burned her heart, until Castor finally absorbed it fully from her. 

She sensed the crackling aether just for a moment, as well as the dark twilight that stained him; Odin and Ravana. They'd channeled their power through Castor, recently, a lot of it. 

They moved through the countryside in silence, ghosting over the land until the looming black steel walls of Castrum Fluminis rose from the earth. Two soldiers patrolled the gateway, eyes roaming over the land as their heads swiveled. 

"Dart them?" Castor sent over, and Yugiri nodded in reply. "Alright." 

She held out the darts in question, allowing him to snare them in his wind aether again. Two flicked forward, and the Imperials fell. Castor ghosted towards the gateway, and Yugiri hurried after him. 

They paused as they drew closer, and Yugiri was about to speak of her plan when Castor's side of their bond buzzed with curiosity. 

"Listen to this," he sent over, and her hearing sharpened as if aether was funneling into her. 

She could hear the clinking of metal and weapons, the rustling of far off cloth and murmurs. 

"I can't bring myself to look at these people," a man was murmuring. 

"Sssh!" His fellow hissed, followed by a nearly inaudible "Is the Pilus gone?" 

"He left a few moments ago for the castle. We're alone here, so we can talk." 

"We're not exactly alone...but at least nobody here will report us," the second soldier muttered. "Kami, I can't believe that I was in their shoes, once: cowering before the Imperials and pissing myself from fear..." 

"And now we're here, enslaving innocent people..." The first spat. 

"What are we going to do?" The second asked. "I don't want to do this, but we can't openly rebel against the Empire, not yet. That broadcast helped spur many of ours in the right direction, but Yotsuyu's got the rest of the legion under her heel. They're too afraid of her or too loyal to the Empire to even hesitate about killing us." 

Yugiri raised an eyebrow at Castor. "Broadcast?" 

Castor grinned. "Severus' doing. I don't know what he broadcasted, but apparently it's helping us." 

"To think that the Fourteenth Legion is fighting Lord Zenos in Gyr Abania right now..." The soldiers continued their chat. "I've heard reports that Legatus Entialpoh actually stood his ground against the viceroy and nearly drove him from the rebel's camp." 

"After his sword broke, aye. Imagine: if he was here, then we would be able to make everything right!" 

Yugiri shot her friend a glare, but he was already moving through the gates. She sidled down, watching as the Imperials jolted with alarm at his sudden appearance. 

"W-what the hell?!" One yelped. "That's impossible!" 

Castor frowned. "Wait, you recognize me? I thought Varus kept the news of my transformation under tight wraps." 

The soldiers dropped their weapons and then fell to their knees, all while the crowd of cowering villagers further up the hill watched in stunned silence. 

"Legate van Entialpoh!" One Imperial gasped. "A-are you actually here?!" 

"I am. I've been hearing of this...broadcast from my allies here ever since my arrival," Castor looked over the two soldiers. "What has my Tribunus been up to?" 

The two soldiers glanced at one another. "You didn't authorize that broadcast?" 

"No, I did not. I've been on a voyage here and then crossing the Ruby Sea for nearly a month," Castor rumbled. "I have no idea what my Tribune has been up to." 

One of the two soldiers jumped to his feet, pumping his fists enthusiastically. "But you're here now, my lord! With the way your words inspired us, many of the legion will be willing to turn against our oppressors and fight for freedom as you do!" 

"He means," the second also rose, "that you inspired many people to think for themselves and dare to dream of a better world outside Garlean yoke. With you here, we can take this opportunity to fight back against the viceroy's forces. We haven't openly challenged the Imperials, but if we can consolidate support..." 

"We have a better chance at driving Imperial oppression from Doma," Castor finished. 

The soldiers nodded, Yugiri's eyes being drawn to several more legionnaires who had begun emerging from the black barracks. 

"What's all the noise?!" A hulking Roegadyn demanded, his voice faltering as he saw the intruder.

"B-by the gods!" A Lalafellin soldier gasped. "Is that...Legate Entialpoh?!" 

The soldiers froze, immediately dropping their weapons. 

"Legatus van Entialpoh... He's actually here..." Another gasped. "Does that mean that we're overthrowing Yotsuyu?" 

"Not just overthrowing her," Castor rumbled. "Driving every Imperial from Doman soil and ending Yotsuyu's life." 

Ah, such words were sweet music to Yugiri's ears! 

The soldiers nodded grimly, Yugiri briefly wondering what expressions they bore underneath those black helms. 

"I can forge the reports to state that we were told to release the villagers by another officer," one man offered. "Let 'em go without fear of being hunted down." 

"Good," Castor nodded to the speaker. "Yugiri, come." 

She was at his side immediately, the Imperials jumping at her sudden appearance. The two Au Ra strode up the hill towards the trembling villagers, the strange magitek device behind them gleaming in the starlight. 

"Y-you were lying to us!" A younger man wearing a yellow tunic growled, his freckled face alight with fear and anger. "We heard what they were calling you, Legate!" 

An imposing Roegadyn with a receding hairline stomped forward, his fists clenched tight at his side. "So, you're an Imperial? Were those supplies stolen? Are we going to be killed for having them?" 

"A former Imperial," Castor corrected. "The Fourteenth Legion does not serve Garlemald any longer." 

The bruised elder that Castor had given the balm to limped forward. "You are the Black Wolf's successor? The one who dared to rebel against the Empire?" 

"If that is the name given to me, then yes. I served Lord van Baelsar until I deserted, then led the Eorzean Alliance against those I had called brothers and sisters. I lead them now, although I am unsure how worthy I am of following in our Lord's footsteps," Castor shook his head slowly. "My legion remains in Eorzea to check the Twelfth, but I am here to crush Yotsuyu and free your people from her oppression." 

The villagers looked among themselves, eyes wide with fear or forgotten hope. 

"We didn't ask you to come here!" The youth snarled again, Yugiri's gaze honing in on him. "We never asked you to fight the Imperials!"

"You did not, but we are here nonetheless," she retorted. "We will not just turn a blind eye onto the suffering of our people." 

"What do you know of our suffering?" Another villager demanded. "You're one of Lord Hien's retainers, are you not? Trained to fight and obey without question? To lay down your life for Doma?" 

Yugiri nodded, biting down the hot rage that simmered through her. "I am." 

"We are not warriors!" The villager continued, gesturing at his fellows. "We cannot fight the way you do!" 

"And it is better to lower your heads and accept the brutality that has been meted out?" She demanded, looking around at her people. "To endure this oppression?" 

Castor's powerful hand came to rest upon her shoulder, making her pause to look up at him. 

"Yugiri, these people have endured who knows how much pain and loss from living under Imperial rule," his voice was gentle, yet she could hear the rage just under the surface. "They have bowed and groveled just to survive, and so many have lost friends and family to the Empire. They have lost so much, and they do not want to lose any more."

His golden gaze swept over the people. "These people are not warriors: they did not dedicate themselves to fight and to possibly lay down their lives for the dream of liberty. We will fight, but I will not let these people bear this burden upon their already heavy shoulders."

Relief flushed the faces of many, but so did shame. 

"I understand your predicaments, but you have all lost enough to the Empire. I will not ask you to risk what you have left, especially when many of you have someone you need to look after," Castor looked down at Yugiri. "There is no shame in surviving for the sake of your loved ones and for yourselves. Leave the fighting to us and be ready to live again once I drive the Empire from these lands. You are all so precious to us and to your lord, and I have no doubt that Hien wants nothing but to see all of Doma's people prosper." 

Yugiri nodded. "When I spoke to him, the love that he held for Doma was behind every word he said. I pray that you will one day be able to value yourselves as highly as my lord does." 

Footsteps approached from behind, the villagers tensing.

"Lord van Entialpoh: the orders have been forged," one of the legionnaires reported, holding a fist over his heart before thrusting outwards. "These people can return home with no consequences now." 

"Well done," Castor nodded to the man, who hesitated as if uncertain of how to react. "You can all go home now. Leave the fighting to us and look out for one another." 

To think that Imperial aid would set her people free...even if those Imperials were rebels. Yugiri couldn't bear to look at them any further and stormed away, looking for anywhere that would be not here.

The crashing of waves upon the shore drew her to a beach overlooking the ocean that fed the One River. The salty spray was cool against her face, and a balm to her aching heart. She understood their desire to survive, but to just bow their heads and accept this...

"Yugiri," Castor's presence filled her with warmth as he stepped up to her side, his powerful hand brushing against hers.

"Forgive me for making you search," she murmured, unable to tear her gaze away from the waves.

That powerful hand closed around hers, the presence of his heart soothing her worries.

"It's fine: I can understand your frustrations," he answered gently. "How these people can allow the Imperials to run roughshod all over them without any desire to change it for themselves... I found it difficult to accept at first, but after what I've done in Gyr Abania...after all the sins I've committed against the innocent... I cannot blame them." 

The pain in his voice made her heart ache, and Yugiri leaned against him, savoring his presence. She felt whole again, the joy in her very soul sending sparks through her spine. 

"Castor...my beloved..." She glanced up at his beautiful eyes, found them gazing back down at her with entrancing focus. "I need to tell you something: I lied to you when I said I was of Doma." 

She didn't know where the words had come from, but it had to be clear. 

His lips curved into a wonderful smile. "I know: I've been to Sui-no-Sato, Yugiri. I didn't get the chance to meet your parents but Lyse and the others did while I was clearing the palace of voidsent." 

What?! Yugiri's jaw dropped.

"You defended Shisui of the Violet Tides from voidsent?" A smile of its own curved upon her lips. "I shouldn't be surprised that you've been to my home." 

Castor leaned against her, his lips pressing against the top of her head. "It was beautiful, and I can see just how such a wonderful place brought someone as incredible as you into this world." 

Yugiri's cheeks burned. "Careful, my friend: some might think you have impure intentions for me." 

His soft laugh shook them both, his warmth washing over her. "If I did, this new spiky armor of yours would be the first to go: I feel like I'm embracing a shuriken." 

Her cheeks burned even hotter, her gaze turning back up to see Castor's grinning face. "Oh, really?" 

Movement from the skies caught her attention, drawing her eyes to an Imperial airship knifing through the darkness, headed towards Doma Castle. 

"An airship," she commented, drawing Castor's gaze to the vessel. 

"One for someone of great importance," he frowned. "But...who?" 

Yugiri tugged on his arm. "Come, we must report to the others." 

"Agreed," Castor leaned down and kissed her forehead, sending cool shivers through her body at the touch of his lips. 

The two slipped out of the Castrum, silently tailing the villagers as they fled back to Namai. No animals challenged them, thank the kami, and the two shinobi were able to slip back into the House of the Fierce with ease. 

As they rose from the hidden waterway, Castor dried them both off before glancing into the House. Yugiri could hear a fierce debate going on inside, Gosetsu arguing with Lyse and several other Liberation Front fighters. 

"We saw an Imperial airship bound for Doma Castle," Yugiri announced as she strode over. "What's going on?" 

"The Crown Prince is come to Doma," Gosetsu's answer chilled her very soul. "Apparently, the Empire's spread itself thin fighting fires that have sprung up thanks to our Legate and his soldiers." 

The glares being focused on Castor from the other rebels made sense now... they knew he was a former Imperial who was currently the leader of a disgraced legion. 

"Fires?" Castor rumbled. 

"Aye, this broadcast that your Tribunus sent across the entirety of the Empire has inspired entire legions to rebel against Imperial tyranny," Gosetsu nodded, though Yugiri was scarcely paying attention to his words. "There has been renewed fighting all over the provinces and even in the Garlean homeland." 

Castor chuckled softly. "Gods, to think that one broadcast, one message, could hold so much power..." 

"Who brought you this information?" Yugiri demanded. 

"Spies in the castle: they overheard everything that Yotsuyu was being given," Alisaie answered. "Zenos has come to ensure that all is well in Doma." 

"And it will be the last thing he ever does," Yugiri vowed, slamming a fist into her palm.

"You plan to assassinate Zenos?!" Alisaie balked. "That is madness: you know what he did to us in the Reach!" 

"That monster is unmatched on the battlefield," Castor rumbled. "Even I had to use every ounce of strength I had to hold my ground against him." 

Yugiri shook her head. "Then we strike where he is vulnerable: from the realm of the shinobi, the shadows. If I get an opening, I promise I will bring him down with a single blow." 

Castor opened his mouth to speak, his disapproval already buzzing through their bond, but it was Gosetsu who stepped forward. 

"If this was a matter of personal vengeance, I would not think to stand in your way," the old samurai said, his expression hard. "But I cannot allow this. If you manage to bring the crown prince down, what then? The Empire will bring everything it has against Doma to avenge his death, shadow-walker! How long do you think our people will last against the full might of Garlemald's legions?!"

Yugiri shot him a glare as her rage burned even hotter within her breast. "We have Castor here, and they will be distracted by their infighting. Lord Hien bade me to see the heart of his people, and I will ignite them with the death of Zenos!" 

She turned her back on her friends and ran, plunging into the water and hauling herself out of the hidden passage. Ignoring the raised eyebrow of the sentry, Yugiri slogged through the village grounds, halting by the cliffside as a bird's soft cry reached her ears. 

A messenger pigeon fluttered down to her, a tiny scroll tied to its foot. She let the little creature land on her extended index finger and gingerly removed the scroll from its tiny appendage. She unraveled it, her eyes narrowing at what awaited her. 

It was a schedule of Zenos' planned excursion into Yanxia, position and everything. With this...

Castor's presence filled her and she turned to see her beloved friend a moving shadow striding towards her. 

"I know where Zenos will embark on his tour of the neighboring villages," she explained, shame warming her cheeks as she recalled how dismissive she'd been of Castor's presence mere moments before. 

'We have Castor': she'd said, as if adamant that just throwing Castor at their foes would solve everything. She had been no better than the Alliance...

"Castor, I..." 

"I know you didn't mean it, Yugiri," he said gently, reaching out and brushing a soft yet firm finger against her cheek. "So, where are we going?" 

The weight on her heart faded entirely. Her beloved was going to come with her! 

"Of course I am: I am not going to let you charge into battle alone. And I have a score to settle with Zenos," Castor leaned down and kissed her forehead again, a faint sigh escaping Yugiri's lips against her volition. 

Yugiri rose on her toes to kiss Castor's cheek, the scaled flesh warm on her lips. "This way, my friend: we shall change the fate of Doma together." 

He nodded grimly. "Together."  


	20. Round Two

The escort was unnecessary, as was the presence of the rage-filled woman he'd assigned to draw the beasts from the lambs. 

Zenos yae Galvus strode from the magitek vessel in silence, his powerful body aching for a fight to loosen his muscles. The escort scrambled to keep pace with him, their insignificant forms barely worthy of his attention any more than the tiny woman at his side. 

It was almost pathetic, really, this worthless land. 

"Less a province than a graveyard; a rotting husk of a broken nation, devoid of proper sport," he intoned, boredom running rampant through his mind as he lazily gazed about. "But, as his Radiance wishes..." 

The Pilus was stammering as he was wont to, his coward's words falling upon deaf ears as Zenos strode forward, forcing the escort to fall into place as he continued: "We labored long to sow the seeds of hate, to train them as beasts, and now we shall see the harvest. Let there be savage beasts baying for blood, and not hollow-eyed prey cowering in the dark, or there will be no joy in this hunt."

He allowed himself to ponder, his mind to return to that wonderful beast whose enraged visage followed him around whenever he closed his eyes. Where was he now: that terrible beast that made Zenos' heart quicken so? 

One of the escort died behind him, not making a single sound as his body crumpled to the dusty earth. A second followed suit seconds later, an impossibly powerful force streaking towards...Zenos. 

Zenos reached down, unsheathed his electric crystal-blade and brought it up just in time to deflect the twin shortswords of the Auri woman who'd nearly clamped her blades upon his throat. Her eyes widened with surprise even as her impossible strength made Zenos' arm tremble. The crystal adorning her neck flickered for a moment, and Zenos slashed forward, driving her back. 

"How weak you are," Zenos sighed, wondering how much it would take to enrage this beast. "Is this the sum of your hate?" 

The woman bared her teeth and crouched low, her blades held out. "This is only the beginning! For Lord Kaien! For Doma!" 

The air filled with insurmountable power, a great pressure that lined Zenos' throat with invisible blades. His heart quickened, his body turning to the source as the Pilus screamed and hit the ground. 

The beast...he was here! Standing before Zenos, clad in a grey duster that fluttered around him like bloodstained wings. The murder in his eyes, glowing in the moonlight, sent shivers through Zenos' heart. 

"Mayhaps I shall test this new blade of yours," he could barely keep his voice steady as he turned back to Yotsuyu. "Let us hope it is to my liking, lest your misfortunes compound."

He readied his blade, turning and meeting his opponent's fearsome gaze. "Then again, I am loathe to expend such effort on the unworthy. Come, earn the honor." 

The beast was a blur, his katana a stream of silver that Zenos barely had time to deflect with his own weapon. Again, that crushing strength dug into his body, grinding into his bones, and Zenos had to muster every ounce of his own might just to keep himself from being driven back.

It was beautiful. 

He heard the screams of the soldiers behind him dying and Castor disengaged, falling back several paces and taking his katana into both hands before his body. Another crystal shone around his neck, and Zenos paused as he felt a... shift in the aether around him. It was as if an invisible thread was transferring power between two sources. 

"Ha!" The shinobi screamed behind him, earning a glance back just in time to see the woman spiraling into the air like a corkscrew, her razor-sharp blades rendering what was left of Zenos' escort to ribbons. 

The thread shifted again, and Zenos' senses alerted him to the beast behind him. He lashed out with his katana, sending electricity crackling in its wake, but the beast ducked under the strike and thrust outwards with a blindingly fast strike of his own. 

Zenos barely managed to catch the blade on his other hand, feeling the pressure of the unnaturally strong blade cracking his armor as he fought to keep himself from being launched backwards by the sheer force of this mighty wall slamming into him. 

The thread shifted, and that terrible strength waned immensely. Zenos' senses alerted him instantly to the encroaching threat as the beast stepped out of his reach, forcing Zenos to turn just in time to duck under the shinobi's twin blades. She hit the ground rolling, came up on her feet and spun in a strike rivaling viper's fangs. 

Zenos parried her strike, steel shrieking and skittering, noting that no electricity ran up her blades at the contact. The shinobi struck again and again, her speed blinding and eyes burning with rage. 

She was strong... too strong. The beast was circling, looking for an opening that wouldn't endanger his woman, and Zenos saw an opportunity. His hand lashed out, seizing the woman's arm and then hurling her full force at the encircling predator. 

That invisible thread shifted once more, and Castor thrust his left arm out to the side. Zenos watched, impressed, as the shinobi grabbed his offered limb midflight, spun about it once as if a wheel on an axle, and then rocketed into the air. 

The shinobi twisted and somersaulted in the air, her descent ending as she landed perfectly upon Castor's still upraised arm with barely a sound. The crystals adorning their necks shone, and again Zenos felt that invisible transfer of power. 

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I see now..."

Castor reared back, the shinobi still on his arm, and then he flung her at Zenos. The woman held the power now, leeching it from the great beast as a parasite feeds from its host. Zenos ducked underneath that desperate strike, already reaching out for his target. 

His fingers closed around the cord keeping the crystal alight in the brief millisecond that the woman was by him, and Zenos yanked the source of her power from her neck. The shinobi skidded to a halt behind him, gasping for breath as he heard her spin to face him once more. 

"Pathetic," he growled, something stirring within his breast as he crushed that crystal to shards in his palm and scattered them upon the earth. "You are weak and so you steal power from the greatest beast to walk these lands." 

Castor's eyes narrowed, his ungodly power now coalescing around him in a blood-red mist. His eyes flickered silver, rather than gold, his hand going for the black hilt at his side. 

"Be silent!" The shinobi shrieked, her rage burning brightly in her heart as she streaked forward. 

"Yugiri, no!" Castor roared. 

Zenos sheathed his electrical blade and reached for Ame-no-Habakiri, feeling the dark energies of the blade resonating with his touch. 

"You have lasted this long," he commented. "Gaze now upon Ame-no-Habakiri!" 

He pulled the weapon free, expelling its terrible power with an explosive roar that tinted the world scarlet and black. The shinobi, Yugiri, fell with a scream, her blood flashing from a gash on her chest, but the beast... oh, he had been ready for it. 

Ame-no-Habakiri's dark energies were slashed apart by silver moonlight, darkness radiating from the unearthly katana now residing in Castor's hand. The aura of death and malice intensified a hundred times over, Zenos' armor groaning as it withstood the mere gaze of the demon standing before him. 

Ah... this rush... it was intoxicating! This power! The entire world screamed before him, before his strength! At long last: an equal! 

 ** _"You will suffer... slowly,"_**  the demon snarled, its eyes twin abysses of pure rage with a scarlet center that burned into Zenos' very soul. 

Then it lunged, a black and grey blur that Zenos' eyes could scarcely follow. Ame-no-Habakiri tugged him forward along with his own enhanced senses. Scarlet met obsidian in a blinding crash that shook Zenos to his very core, making his bones groan in protest at the power being wrenched upon them. 

Black and scarlet were flung in blinding blurs, one way or another, steel shrieking in its wondrous chorus as the two demons traded blow after blow after blow. 

Every strike shook Zenos, hurt his body from the sheer rage emanating from the demon. 

Oh, what a wonderful clash! The rush of blood! The-

Obsidian sliced into his helmet, metal screaming and blood flashing across Zenos' sight. The metal peeled away from his flesh, freeing his head as the pieces fell to the ground with a clank. 

Warm blood ran down his forehead, painting his third eye red, and Zenos barely had time to react when the demon lunged and closed a steel hand around his throat. The two skidded backwards from the force of the leap, their feet gouging deep furrows into the earth before Zenos finally halted it by digging in his heels. 

Castor van Entialpoh's mouth opened, a menacing hiss resonating from his maw as pure death washed over Zenos' face.  

His senses alerted him to the movement of the fallen shinobi at his side, and that invisible tether once again shifted. Castor's strength waned considerably, hot rage bubbling into Zenos' heart in response.

"No... No!" He shoved the beast off of him, breaking its grasp far too easily and throwing it back. 

The shinobi was rising, clutching her blades with desperation bordering insanity. With a scream, eyes that glowed silver rose as the woman streaked forward in a final attempt to take Zenos down with her stolen strength. 

He swung again, steel biting deep into her flesh and throwing her back a third time. 

"You are not worthy," the rage that burned his heart trembled upon his words as he strode towards this Yugiri. "You are not worthy of the strength you have stolen. Without him, you are nothing." 

Zenos stood over the gasping, heaving woman, rearing his blade back to run her through and return his wondrous beast to its rightful power. Ame-no-Habakiri fell, and Zenos barely glimpsed the shards of the broken crystal shining as they snapped back together.

The tether shifted again, this time carrying a larger force, and his scarlet blade pierced a body enshrouded by a grey duster. Zenos faltered, for perhaps the first time in his life on the battlefield, as the hate-filled gaze of his demon lifted to him. 

 ** _"You will not take her!"_** One of those powerful hands reached up and grabbed Zenos by the throat once more, hot agony splicing his nerves as his windpipe groaned under the hydraulic pressure. 

"She is a parasite," Zenos forced the words through his slowly crushing windpipe, the pain alighting every nerve he had as he gazed down at the demon. "If I must kill her to make you into my perfect beast, then nothing will stop me." 

A wall of power slammed into Zenos, driving him back with waves of pure agony. Ame-no-Habakiri went with him, flesh squelching as the blade was yanked from Castor van Entialpoh's body. The demon rose, its eyes shimmering scarlet in time with the blood mist surrounding it, pores bleeding a writhing, hissing darkness into the air around him. 

A thousand invisible swords sliced into Zenos with merely a glance, his body screaming from the pure suffering now crashing upon every nerve. 

Black splotches of pain danced across his vision, his mouth filled with the taste of his own blood. Every beat of his heart pounded his body, thundering in his ears as the word trembled around him. 

It was... wonderful.

"NO!" That parasite latched onto the demon from behind, her hands resting upon his stomach. "Castor! Stop! Please!" 

A low growl escaped Zenos' lips. "Worthless parasite! He is to be my beast!"

The demon's head lowered, the crushing pain knifing through Zenos fading and drawing another snarl from the prince's lips. 

No! He was perfect! This pathetic little animal was ruining him! 

An arrow thunked into the ground by his feet, drawing his gaze to the pathetic rabble of villagers that had gathered before them. The fools were brandishing makeshift weapons and farm tools that they couldn't even wield, trembling in their tunics. 

"Get away from them, you Imperial dog!" The boy who had fired the arrow commanded, his voice strong despite the terror in his eyes. 

"You must flee!" Yugiri ordered. "Get away from here!"

"No! We're not running away!" The boy snarled. "What you're doing is stupid and reckless and I never wanted any part of it, but here we are!"

Zenos' patience was running thin with these pathetic animals.

"You dare intrude upon this sacred ground and threaten me with weapons you can scarcely wield," he growled, cutting off the boy's rant. "Death is death, regardless of the reason; your lives will scarcely begin to redress the balance."

He strode forward, about to slaughter every one of those worms to set his beast free when stinging smoke exploded all over. It hurt to breathe, and the smoke stung the wounds he bore.

"How wrong you are!" Another woman's voice cried, healing aether descending upon beast and parasite. "Gosetsu, see to Yugiri!"

"Let go! I'm not leaving him!" Yugiri was shouting in the stark, shimmering, stinging white. 

"Come! Quickly now!" 

There was no purpose in remaining: the beast would come for him and they would fight without any distractions. The thought brought a smile to Zenos' lips as his heart skipped within his chest.

"I can't see a damn thing!" Yotsuyu was coughing and gagging. "Someone stop them!" 

Zenos sheathed his red blade and walked away from his acting viceroy, forcing her to follow him. 

Oh, he would meet the beast again...and it would be the greatest fight of his life. 

His blood sang for it. 

The haze of rage and darkness had faded by the time Castor and Yugiri had been dragged back into Namai, where the villagers were loudly celebrating their first victory against Imperial oppression. 

Fools, all of them: this was no victory. Zenos had walked away because he'd grown tired of their interference, not because he'd felt beaten. 

Castor had been prepared to tear that demon apart with his bare hands until Yugiri had desperately begun sapping his strength, trying to bring him back from the hatred and destruction that he'd delved into to fight the crown prince.

He and his beloved had been sharing his ungodly power, using their bond to transfer it one way or another in the hopes of catching Zenos off guard and killing him, but somehow the demon had figured it out. Their crystals had served as the main gateway for trading that power, and it had taken everything Castor could muster to rebuild the shattered crystal and throw himself in front of Yugiri. 

He could feel the dark powers radiating from that Ame-no-Habakiri the moment he'd first laid eyes on the blade, Urianger's words echoing through his mind as he'd delved into the abyss of his rage and power. Yugiri had drawn him out, Alsiaie had healed his wounds, and Zenos walked away as Castor's allies dragged him back to the village. 

  He had used the Soul of the White Mage to heal himself and Yugiri more thoroughly and was attempting to keep the glower from his expression as Isse and his sister spoke to him of what had happened to their parents. 

"We will make certain something like that never occurs again," he promised as the brother and sister finished their tale. "The Imperials will be driven from Doma or slaughtered before I allow a repeat of that atrocity."

 Isse nodded grimly. "We're all we've got now, so you were right when you were saying that we didn't want to lose anyone else. Why I never forgave myself for every time they made me beg and grovel..." 

"You did what you had to do to survive," Castor said as gently as he could muster. "None can fault you for that." 

Isse nodded, holding his sister closer to him. 

"Castor!" Lyse's voice reached his ears, as did the sound of her hurried footsteps. "Yugiri!" 

Both glanced back to see the blonde woman sprinting towards them, relief shining in her eyes as she all but tackled the duo. Castor humored her effort with a grunt and was rewarded with a laugh and her warm breath tickling his ear.

"Are the two of you okay?" Lyse pulled back, her gaze roaming her friends. "By Rhalgr, don't do that again!" 

"We're fine, Lyse," Castor assured her, rapid footsteps approaching. 

Isse's little sister was clutching something to her as she approached Yugiri, thrusting her hands out to reveal the crystal that had been wrenched from Yugiri's neck, the ripped cord replaced by a braided straw rope. 

"I saw this around your neck earlier before you left," the girl murmured, not quite making eye contact. "I saw it on the ground and thought you'd want it back."

Yugiri's face softened further as she reached out and accepted the crystal. "Thank you."

Her side of the bond was almost overwhelmed with affection and joy as she pulled the cord over her head, teasing it past her horns to allow it to slip comfortably around her neck. 

"Is it important?" The girl asked, Yugiri's loving gaze turning to Castor as the purest smile he'd ever seen on her lips graced him. 

"It is the most important possession I have," she answered, her lotus scented breath sweet on the soft wind. 

"Are you two married?" The girl asked, both Au Ra jolting in their seats as Lyse yelped into their ears. 

Castor's heart raced in his chest and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Yugiri as his mind struggled to find a suitable answer. 

He didn't have to, as Yugiri composed herself far quicker than he did: "We aren't, little one. Why did you think that?" 

The girl looked between them, her eyes sparkling as she smiled. "Because you look like it, with the way you look at each other." 

"By the Twelve, you two are dense!" Alisaie strode over, a shit-eating grin on her lips that made Castor want to throw her back into the Coils.

Alone. 

"Shut it," he growled. "We have to find Lord Hien now, do we not?" 

Yugiri nodded hurriedly at his side. "Yes, indeed! I must find him and inform him of his people's hearts. They wish to fight, and so he must return!" 

Nhaama was impatiently urging him towards the Steppe, anyhow, and Castor doubted he'd be able to resist her influence for much longer and keep his sanity intact doing so. She could be hellishly persistent when she wanted. 

Alisaie was talking about Alphinaud: apparently the boy had made his way to Othard and found the House of the Fierce, demanding that a squadron be assembled the moment he learned Castor and Yugiri had gone off to fight Zenos. 

Castor smirked and shook his head, listening to the girl speak until Dorgono stomped up towards them, a scowl on her face. 

"So, you fought a man renowned for being the deadliest swordsman in this Garlean Empire, and you didn't let me come with you?" The Xaela axewoman demanded, her eyes orbs of pure murder. 

"The two of us barely walked away, and Zenos was hardly scratched," Castor grunted. "If there had been three of us, it wouldn't have much of a difference." 

Dorgono was headstrong, perhaps too much, and she would have been the first to fall under Zenos' blade. Even with Castor lending her his power, Yugiri had barely survived. 

"I could have helped," Dorgono continued. 

"You would have died," Castor answered. "And your tribe would be worse off without you." 

His words had the desired effect: Dorgono flushed and looked down at the ground, unable to meet his gaze. 

Castor rose from where he was seated, gazing up at the star-speckled sky as the insurmountable weight of his weariness settled upon his muscles. He'd drawn too much power too quickly, and his body was now paying for it. 

"You need to rest," Yugiri's soft voice entered their bond. 

"I will rest when I am dead," he replied. "Until my duties are complete, I cannot falter." 

Yugiri's face flashed with pain for the briefest of moments before her gaze turned to Lyse. Castor scowled, icy horror flitting through his veins as a cruel sparkle shone in the Au Ra's eyes. 

"Lyse?" Yugiri spoke aloud, the Ala Mhigan's eyes snapping to her.

"Yeah?" 

"Don't you dare!" Castor hissed, but his beloved ignored him. 

"Castor is being stubborn and refusing to rest," Yugiri said, shooting Castor a smirk. "It appears we may have a situation on our hands." 

Lyse's glare focused on him next, her eyes narrowing as his doom was spelled out within those shining irises. "Oh, is he, now? We'll just have to trap him again, won't we?" 

"Don't you dare," he repeated, but his weariness was pulling him down. 

Making him weak. 

_Why do we bother with them, Castor? The two of us, together, are all that we need._

_We could have done it._

_We could have killed Zenos if_ she _didn't interfere._

_We could have reclaimed our life, forged our own destiny._

Castor shook his head as his heartbeat pounded his bones with each pulse, pain knifing through his skull in response to it. 

_You know what we_ _have done._

_The lives we_ _have taken._

_The dreams we have ended._

_This darkness that we are drowning this world in._

_Is this all we are capable of?_

"Castor?" Yugiri's worried voice drowned out the others, her gentle touch a balm against the memories bubbling up to the surface.

Myste... damn you! You're supposed to be separate! Alone!

_These people... they suffer and bleed._

_You know it. You've done it._

_You will not forget._

_I will not let you._

Castor snarled as more and more haunting images; images he'd hoped would be gone so long as Myste was half a world away, came into his mind. 

It hurt: each reminder knifing his brain and sending spindles of electricity through every nerve. 

Castor didn't know when he started running: only becoming faintly aware of his legs propelling him away from Namai before the villagers could see him falling apart. He ran through the valley, avoiding the rice paddies as he pounded through the thick forests until they gave way to stone. 

The cliffs towered over him, but Castor drew upon his power to leap as high as he could muster. Fingers dug into the stone, causing golden cracks to weave through the sheer face as he clawed and jumped his way up. He kept climbing even as his fingers began to stiffen from the exertions, but still he climbed. 

The cliff gave away to emptiness and Castor tumbled through the air before smacking into icy water. The aether pushed him to the surface, guiding him to the lone island inhabiting this mountain spring, and Castor hauled his bone-dry body onto the shore. 

His back hit the trunk of a pink-lined tree, and at long last the memories overwhelmed him. Doma's lush land was replaced by the craggy badlands of Gyr Abania, the stifling heat familiar to the stiff black fibers that encased his body. 

His legs moved on their own, marching in time to the thundering of his fellow legionnaires. A sea of black and scarlet, descending upon Ala Ghiri to root out rebels and sympathizers. 

The cohort shoved their way into the town center, where merchants hurriedly closed up their stalls and attempted to hide their wares as fearful gazes settled upon the Imperials from the homes and businesses built into the walls. 

The centurion stepped forward, the air heavy with fear and anticipation on what was to come. "Listen up, savages! Many of you have no doubt heard that there are those among you who have been offering shelter to rebels and traitors! If there are any who hold any loyalty to the Empire and to the legion, come forward with this information!" 

Silence. Castor shifted on his feet, his feline ears twitching inside the confines of his helmet as his gloved hand clutched the hilt of his black-steel katzbalgr. Oil and ceruleum assailed his nostrils even as sweat ran down his face and body in rivulets, his keen eyes roaming the buildings around the cohort. 

He could almost taste the fear. 

The centurion remained silent, hesitant, before drawing his gunblade and firing a single shot into the air. The crack resonated through the town, shaking the core of all present as the legionnaires took the que to spread out. Castor moved with them, another cog in this well-oiled, disciplined machine that left no room for emotions as he took his place with two Equites at his side. 

The cohort was a black and red line blocking the two entrances to the town, weapons menacing the civilians who cowered under anything they could. 

"You all: stay there and keep these savages from escaping! You and you: take those soldiers through the back alleys and look for hideaways!" The centurion pointed at soldiers before his helmet came to rest upon Castor. "Pilus: I want you to run a sweep of the dwellings. Put those keen ears of yours to use!" 

Castor saluted with the rest of his squadron. "Yes, sir!" 

The six legionnaires split off from the rest of the cohort, striding towards the closest domiciles. Castor could feel the countless fear-filled gazes piercing him with each step he took towards the closest door on the edge of the town. The door opened immediately, revealing a middle-aged couple with dark circles under their dulled, sunken eyes, arms wrapped protectively around a young child. 

"Do what you will," the father spoke softly, his voice barely audible. "Just leave my family be." 

"So long as you aren't abetting traitors and rebels," Castor answered, the words drilled into his mind as he shoved his way past the family. 

The house was clean: there were no hidden doors or rebels crammed into tiny spaces in the hope of escaping notice. Castor led his team out and continued the cycle with the next house and the next, the families holding tightly to each other as he and his comrades swept through the buildings. 

By the seventh home, Castor was beginning to doubt that there were any rebels being hidden in Ala Ghiri, but he couldn't slack off in his duties: such laziness could cost him dearly. 

As they entered another simple dwelling, it felt no different than any of the others. A man and a woman stood alone in the corner, dark eyes following the legionnaires as they began inspecting every inch of every room. 

Castor kept his ears keen as he entered a simple kitchen, the cooking pot extended over smoldering ashes that had been hastily doused, perhaps by the cohort's sudden arrival. Castor's eyes roamed over the stores of grain and stale foodstuffs as he moved through the room, clutching his equipment tightly.

His shield was held out before him, ready to deflect any strike that may come his way. One of the Equites was with him, keeping her halberd lowered as she attempted to move it through the cramped quarters. 

"Why didn't you stand guard outside?" Castor muttered to her, gesturing at her cumbersome weapon. 

"Centurion's orders, sir," she whispered. 

A low scrape of wood on wood made Castor freeze, the porous fibers encasing his ears allowing them to twitch as he tried to hone in on the source. 

"Did you hit something?" He asked softly, glancing over his shoulder as another legionnaire- a Hoplomachus- entered the kitchen. "You hit anything?" 

Both of them shook their heads, eyes roaming the kitchen. Castor glanced back at the smoldering remains of the fire, glaring at the earthen floor until a faint speck of ash caught his eye. Castor's pulse increased immediately, his heartbeat pounding his ears. 

No... no! Calm! Focus! He inhaled slowly, forcing his heart to calm down and cease its pounding as he crept towards one of the stone walls. 

The two legionnaires were flanking him and Castor found himself thankful for the extra reach his comrade's halberd provided as she leveled the gleaming pike head at their target. Castor heard a faint shuffle on the other side: a hidden door. 

He motioned for the soldiers to keep quiet and crept closer, his keen eyes flickering across the stone surface for a groove, a hinge, or anything. Metal tapped his side- the Hoplomachus. Castor looked over to see the man gesturing at a tiny hinge barely visible in a groove cut into the stone, just enough to make it look almost natural to a casual observer. 

Castor looked across from the hinge and found the other end of the hidden door almost immediately, glancing back at his soldiers. They nodded grimly, readying their equipment and tensing for a fight. 

Castor pushed on the door slightly, making it creak as it was pushed inwards. More scampering from within, a hushed swear. This was it. Carefully, he lowered his equipment to the ground and reached out, a nervous chill going through his spine.  

Castor wormed his finger into the tiny opening as best as his glove would allow and wrapped his hand around the edge of the door. Another curse from inside, louder now, and as Castor started to pry it open, someone took ahold of an unseen handle on the other side. 

Pain exploded from his fingers as his opponent heaved back on the door, crushing his digits in between the wall and the door. 

"Pilus!" His comrades swore as a pained grunt escaped his lips, but Castor refused to relent his grip on his quarry. 

The sooner they got rid of these rebels, the sooner the town could return to normalcy! His opponent was grunting and swearing from the other side as the two grappled with the heavy stone, the sound of footsteps from behind grabbing Castor's attention. 

"Keep those traitors away from us!" He barked, the Hoplomachus vanishing from sight as his crackows clacked against the floor behind Castor. 

His hands were burning, but Castor refused to let go. Gathering his strength, he heaved back and opened a wider crack on his side. The Eques-bless her heart- immediately thrust her weapon into the gap and braced it as the door clamped shut on the shaft. Castor released the door with a grunt, the pain in his fingers making him wince as he rose and grabbed the halberd's shaft just ahead of his comrade. 

"Back, savages!" The other Hoplomachus barked and Castor stole a quick glance to see the soldier menacing the two Ala Mhigans with his blade. "Back or I'll kill you!" 

Whoever was on the other side of the door was putting considerable strength into heaving it shut, but the two legionnaires would not be denied. 

Castor and Eques roared in unison as they heaved, stone groaning as the door was violently flung open. Another Ala Mhigan man, dressed in the duster of the Resistance, tumbled out with the door, landing heavily on Castor's discarded sword and shield. 

"Imperial whoresons!" A female rebel lunged, a rusted dagger in her hands, only to be impaled upon the edge of the halberd. 

"Sister!" The female homeowner screamed, lunging at the soldier menacing her. 

"Don't!" 

The Hoplomachus cut her down with a single stroke, her body crumpling with a meaty thud. Castor reached down and yanked his sword free from under the first rebel, burying the rectangular blade into the man's back before he could rise. 

The three soldiers immediately went back-to-back, Castor's eyes roaming into the small, dark room that had been opened. Five more rebels cowered within, each sporting bloodied bandages and baring their teeth at the legionnaires menacing them. Then he saw the dirty, huddled forms of the children cowering behind the adults. 

"Surrender, rebels!" He snarled, swallowing the bitter anger that lingered within his throat. "Do not move!" 

To their credit, they obeyed, freezing and scarcely daring to breathe as their eyes alighted upon the three bleeding bodies of their comrades. 

"Get up! Slowly!" Castor barked then turned his attention to the surviving homeowner. "You: get over here with them!" 

Blades followed their every move as the Ala Mhigans shuffled carefully to the spots indicated by black steel weapons, Castor fighting to keep his senses calm as the metallic scent of blood mixed with the musk of fear and body odor. 

"Sir, do you want me to grab reinforcements?" The Eques asked, menacing the rebels with her halberd. 

"No, I'll need you here," Castor shook his head, never taking his eyes off his prey as he pointed at the other legionnaire. "You, go. They're injured, so the two of us should suffice in holding them here so long as we have the advantage." 

"Yes, sir!" The Hoplomachus smartly saluted, loyal as a true soldier, and retreated from the abode, his feet clacking against stone. 

"You're animals," one of the rebels snarled. 

Castor ignored the jab. "And you are the ones endangering an entire town by cowering here. If it weren't for you, then we wouldn't be here." 

"Don't blame us for your tyranny!" One of the children shouted, his voice stronger than Castor had anticipated. "This is all your fault!" 

"Silence, boy," the Eques snapped. "You rebels had to involve innocent children, didn't you? Are you training child soldiers, now? Are you so desperate that you're turning children into killers?" 

The adults' eyes flared with rage and indignation, but none dared to speak. 

Castor heard footsteps behind them, pounding down the stone behind them, glancing over his shoulder just in time to see another Ala Mhigan townsfolk charge in. 

"Come no closer!" He spun, menacing the man with his sword. "On your knees, now!" 

The Ala Mhigan gazed past the legionnaires at the rebels, his eyes unfocused. 

"Run," he said, pulling something from his tunic and hurling it. 

"Bomb!" Castor shouted, grabbing the Eques and hurling her onto the ground. 

He threw himself over her, keeping his shield in the way and bracing himself. The blast shook the entire house, the deafening boom and the blinding flash slamming into Castor with the force to shear into his entire body. Hot pain knifed into his legs and his torso as the blast slammed his shield against his front and his back against his partner. 

His ears were ringing and his eyes stung as smoke and debris pelted him, dark forms moving in the haze in front of him. 

The rebels! He couldn't let them escape! 

Castor mustered his strength, silently thanking the highly advanced fibers comprising his uniform, and rolled forward. His head swam with the movement and he fought to keep his lunch rations in his stomach as the world spun around him. 

Castor reached into his tunic, found the regenerative syringe given to most of the soldiers of the legion His fingers closed around the magitek needle before he pulled it from its place, nearly losing his grip in the daze. 

He fumbled with the cap, tried again, and pulled it off before jabbing the regenerative into his thigh and injecting the contents into his bloodstream. Magitek-enhanced tonic flowed through his veins, increasing the speed at which his body healed by finding injuries and holding them together before forcing the body to repair itself at a hyperactive rate. 

Castor pushed himself up with a groan as his world spun, the heat of his body repairing itself spreading through his veins. 

"Soldier?" He tested his voice as he looked through the haze and wreckage, the air thick and hard to breathe. "Eques?" 

He nudged the form behind him and heard her groan. Why had he sent off the rest of the squad to look ahead? 

Castor fumbled through the Eques' tunic, found her own regenerative, and injected it into her. She groaned again and stirred, her eyelids fluttering as her unfocused gaze roamed. 

Good, she was lucid, but the dent in her helmet warned him to the possibility of a concussion. The helms were strong, but not that strong. 

"Stay here until you can move," he spoke, gagging and coughing as gritty air surged into his throat. 

The Eques tried to speak, but her words degenerated to a guttural hack. Castor looked down at his apparel, found several shredded strips hanging from his bleeding legs, and ripped a few off. He bunched the black fibers into a makeshift mask and laid it across the Eques' mouth and nostrils to cover them but not suffocate her. 

"Tie that when you can," he ordered, grunting as he pushed himself to stand. "I'm going after the rebels." 

"S-sir..." The Eques protested weakly, but she couldn't do much more. 

Castor took one look at his shredded shield and cast it aside, glancing around for his sword. It was gone, perhaps taken by the rebels, but the Eques' halberd was still lying on the ground beside him. 

Castor grabbed the weapon and rose, shaking his head as the regenerative worked its wonders on his body and cleared more of the nausea away. His legs still hurt, and perhaps he'd have to have a Medicus dig some shrapnel out, but that could come later. 

His muscles were a bit stiff, another effect of the regenerative, but he pushed them as hard as he could to dash out of the house. The house was, of course, abandoned, and Castor burst out into the blazing midday to find the bloody corpse of another legionnaire slumped against the wall of a nearby alleyway cutting through the back of Ala Ghanna. 

It was one of his other squad mates: a burly Laquerius whose axe was embedded into his gut. Castor bit down a curse and ran into the alley, clutching his borrowed halberd tightly in his gloved hands as the tatters of his breeches bounced against his legs. 

He could hear shouting and clashing steel, mixed with an occasional gunshot from one of the officers. The rebels were trying to fight their way out? Fools. 

He turned a corner and almost ran into one of the Ala Mhigan rebels, who blanched and tried to thrust out with a stolen katzbalgr. Castor's training kicked in and he sidestepped the clumsy thrust before slamming the head of his halberd into the man's gut. 

The rebel groaned and dropped the blade, falling to his knees as he looked up with his one good eye. 

"You're supposed to be dead," he gurgled as blood poured from his mouth. 

"I'm not, but you are," Castor thrust deeper, making flesh squelch as he felt the weapon puncture organs, then ripped it out of the man's body. 

The rebel crumpled, spilling blood to the stones and leaving the alley open. Castor stooped and retrieved the stolen sword- his sword, he was pleased to discover- thrust it into his sword belt and dashed down the alley. His body ached, but at least the worst of his injuries had been healed thanks to the regenerative. 

He turned another corner and ground to a halt at the scene awaiting him. Several bodies were slumped on the ground, leaking blood and bodily fluids from vicious wounds, and the remaining rebels were standing behind one woman that they had taken as a shield. 

The Miqo'te's wide eyes immediately locked onto Castor as the rebel holding a knife to her throat- the same man who'd thrown that damn bomb- turned with his shield before him, his lips twisting into a snarl. 

"You're supposed to be dead, you Imperial bastard!" He growled, the sheer rage in his eyes unnerving. 

The three children were trying to hold swords too large for their hands as they stood between the four rebels and the three legionnaires who were blocking their only escape. 

"Pilus rem Entialpoh!" It was the rest of his squad, perhaps having attempted to meet up with him when they'd run into the rebels. "Are you unharmed!?" 

"I'm fine!" Castor raised his halberd, ready to run through the first rebel to get into his range. "Release her, now!" 

"C-Castor," the captive, a beauty who often sold her body to Imperial soldiers just to make enough coin to survive, whimpered. "Help me, please!" 

"Bah! Of course this whore knows every Imperial who enslaves us!" The rebel holding her captive spat. "She's been on her back, servicing the lot of them!" 

"Is this how you're going to gain your freedom?" Castor asked slowly, eyeing the desperate rebels. "by holding your own countrymen hostage?" 

The rebel bristled. "Like this whore is one of us! She'd sell us out in a heartbeat if it got her more coin!" 

That had happened all too often: neighbors betraying neighbors just for the chance to gain some Imperial favor and ease up on their oppression. Many women had taken to selling themselves to legionnaires in the hopes of building some rapport with the soldiers, gaining small favors for their families like extra rations or lessened taxes, like J'ghonako, whose wide eyes were boring into Castor. 

He knew her well, ever since he'd learned that some of the locally recruited legionnaires had taken to brutalizing escort women, viewing them as unclean whores. Castor and a few other officers had taken to limiting those soldiers' free time and then going out and purchasing the 'services' of the targeted escorts. They'd guard the women until the legionnaires were forced to give up after searching in vain and return to their duties. 

Castor had learned much of J'ghonako, mostly of the sister and mother she was struggling to support with the money she cobbled together if her Imperial clients even deigned to pay her for her body. The Miqo'te was skilled with words and with using her body to entice customers, an unfortunately necessary expertise if anyone was to survive, but apparently that hadn't been enough here. 

"And you wouldn't?" Castor dug himself out of his thoughts. "You're the one holding a knife to a woman just trying to survive and provide for her mother and little sister." 

The rebel hesitated, his grip on J'ghonako's arm tightening, if the woman's pained cry was any indication. 

"Kill her, and you will all die," Castor warned, his gaze flitting to the children. "Throw your knife away and I'll personally ensure that you just get sentenced to labor and repair." 

"Like that's any better!" The rebel closest to Castor snapped, the feral gleam in her eyes sending a chill through him. "I'd rather die than serve you bastards!" 

"But what about the children?" He asked softly, praying that would make them hesitate just enough...

The rebels balked, glancing at one another with conflicted eyes, and Castor moved. He lunged, thrusting the already bloody pike of the halberd into the throat of the rebel holding J'ghonako. He let go the second the weapon pierced flesh, his hands reaching out and wrenching the knife from the rebel's hand with all the speed he could muster. 

"Bastard!" The others balked, reacting far too slowly, but the legionnaires were already moving. 

The three soldiers bowled over the startled children, smacking the weapons from their tiny hands and plowing into the remaining rebels. Two Ala Mhigans died on the spot, impaled upon black steel and spilling blood and gore onto the ground, leaving the children and the one survivor to knocked down. 

Castor grabbed J'ghonako's arm and pulled her away from the bloodbath, pulling her behind him as she clung to him for her life. 

"Get back to your mother and sister," Castor told her. "Go!" 

The woman nodded, eyes wide with fear as she dashed off.

"Pilus!" More legionnaires showed up, led by Severus. "We've rounded up the rest of the rebels! Is everything alright over here?" 

Castor nodded grimly, wondering if he should send someone back for his injured Eques when said Eques limped into the alleyway, holding the rusted spear a rebel had thrust at her back in the house. 

"Pilus!" She croaked as he hurried over and drew her free arm over his shoulder. "Reporting for duty." 

"Careful, you reckless fool," he chided, his heart not really into it. "Lest you injure yourself again." 

She shrugged. "I'll be fine, sir." 

The surviving rebel and the children were hauled into the town center, where nearly two dozen other men, women, and children were on their knees, surrounded by legionnaires. 

"Ah, Pilus!" The centurion's automated voice called out. "I trust I have you to thank for that bomb and for flushing out these traitors?" 

"You do, sir," the Eques on Castor's shoulder replied. "He saved my life, as well." 

Severus called over a Medicus, who quickly took the Eques and led her away. "Well done, Pilus Entialpoh." 

"Thank you, Optio Aurelius," Castor took his position with the rest of the surrounding soldiers, leveling his borrowed halberd at a rebel. "Where are we off to?" 

The centurion gazed at the rebels before sighing heavily. "We’re to take them over to Goodblade, an old fishery just outside the town. It's mostly useless, to be honest, but we're to make an example to all of Ala Ghiri." 

Orders were barked and the rebels were forced to their feet by a ring of black steel, then marched out of Ala Ghiri. Not far into Wightrock, Castor could see the buildings that the centurion had indicated, rising from the flatlands leading up to Specula Imperatoris, next to a cliff and a small pond. Goodblade. 

"Inside! Now!" Soldiers barked, shoving the rebels inside the largest of the buildings.

Castor frowned as he was ushered forward beside the centurion, who was standing stock still despite the blistering heat and the hazy air that had to be baking him inside that armor. The children were ushered inside as well, and the doors were bolted shut behind the last of the rebels to enter. 

"Reapers forward!" 

Castor's blood turned to ice in his veins as the half dozen magitek tanks stomped forward, powerful cannons humming as they idled at the front lines of the cohort. 

"No..." He whispered, the word lost amongst the noise. 

"Pilus," the centurion spoke, his voice heavy and strained as he unhooked his gunblade and offered it to Castor. "Since you were the one to grant us this bounty, I'll give you the honor of sending these rebels to whatever hell they believe in." 

There were children in there, for gods' sakes! 

Castor's body moved on its own as everything numbed, taking the gunblade and aiming it at the closest building. The Reapers powered up, their cannons shining as power gathered inside of the barrels. He could hear the rebels inside, screaming for mercy and begging for their lives; spitting curses and whispering fervent prayers.

Was he really about to do this? 

Kill all of these people? 

Kill those children? 

Castor's finger pulled the trigger, and the buildings erupted in a firestorm of Garlean making. Stone and wood exploded in a supernova of heat and light that made many legionnaires scramble back as they were blasted with shockwaves. 

People were screaming, begging, dying as their world exploded around them.  

The vision faded, flickering to cairns that Castor had built alongside his comrades to the piles of burning corpses that smoldered and stung the air with fetid ashes as bodies of men, women, and children were slowly consumed. People and faces flashed across his vision, flesh opening into scarlet as organs spilled from their rightful owners. 

None escaped his blade: the old; the young. More blood was all that shone through, all that he could see. 

"Castor." 

Only when he stood alone in a sea of ravaged corpses did a voice reach him, echoing through the wasteland of death and destruction. 

He turned to the source: that bastard Myste standing behind him with a sorrowful expression on his childish face. The 'boy' looked around at corpses charred, cut open, dismembered, or blasted into oblivion, his face never changing. 

"Do you see what we have done?" He spoke again, his voice carrying faint tones of Ysayle's. "The people we have killed in the name of the Empire?" 

"You have done this once already," Castor growled, fighting down waves of bitter guilt and nausea that made his head swim. "Pretty words and illusions will not repair the damage we have done." 

"No, but I can make you suffer for your sins. I can drag you through this darkness that you so love if it means you can feel some of the fear that we have subjected countless innocents to," Myste answered with a growl, a feral expression forming upon his face. 

"Have you forgotten how much suffering I have already endured?" Castor spat back at him as anger sparked within his breast. "Have you forgotten Bahamut? Thordan? Alexander? Ever other gods-damned monster I have gone blade-to-blade with and narrowly escaped with my life?"

He stormed towards the 'boy', towering over him as heat raged through his heart. "Have you forgotten Haurchefant? Ysayle? My parents?! Everyone that I have lost ever since I became Hydaelyn's little slave?!" 

"We deserved that loss," Myste answered in an icy tone, the feral cruelty in his eyes disappearing. "You know we did. Demons deserve only suffering." 

"Perhaps, but we have no choice but to keep moving forward," Castor took a step back, fighting down the simmering rage. "You are foolish if you think regrets will mean anything to the dead. Words can only do so much, and dreams mean nothing if there is nothing giving them purpose." 

"What do you dream of, Castor? Beyond the darkness, beyond the blood... what is it you dream of?" 

Dreams... what did dreams matter in this nightmare of an existance? All he could do was fight and kill and devour. 

"The only dreams that matter to demons are the dream of what can be bought with blood," the words echoed from his soul. "Peace; glory; land; war. As for me... I dream of a world that no longer needs monsters like me." 

Castor turned his back on Myste, bitterness and anger once again taking root within his blackened heart. 

"But for now, I will be the greatest monster this world will ever see."


	21. Blood Bound (Mature Content Inside!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a head's up: this chapter does involve a sex scene, and if you don't want to read it, you can skip that part of it. I've never written smut before in my life, so just prepare yourselves, eh?

What was this nightmare that stretched out before her? Yugiri looked around in silent horror at the wasteland that extended to both horizons, filled with acrid smoke that stung her lungs and eyes. 

She tried to move her leg and hit something soft, turning her gaze down and drawing a startled cry from her throat. 

Corpses, hundreds of them if not more, carpeted the wastes, many of them smoldering as sightless, glassy eyes stared into Yugiri's soul. They were all bloated and bloody, many missing limbs or worse as she gazed out across the carpet of death. 

Men, women, children... kami, what was this?! 

A presence shifted behind her and she spun, unsheathing her blades in time to face a young boy eerily similar to Ysayle standing there, his icy eyes filled with sorrow as he gazed upon the carnage. 

"Do you see what we have done, Yugiri?" Even his voice was a child's echo of hers. "All of the blood that we have shed? All the dreams we have consigned to the abyss?" 

He felt like Castor... but how? 

"What is this?" She demanded, trying to get something, anything, out of her bond with her beloved friend. "Who are you?" 

Castor had suddenly broken off running from Namai after pain began registering in their aether, Yugiri giving chase to find him slumped against a tree in the mountain springs. She'd touched his burning flesh and... now she was here. 

"I am Castor Entialpoh," the boy answered, his form flickering. "I remind him of what we have done, the lives and dreams we have ended." 

This was the one responsible for breaking Castor's Soul Crystal! 

"What did you do to him?!" Yugiri stomped closer to the boy, forcing herself to ignore the shifting of the corpses underneath her feet. "What is this?!" 

"Our sins," the boy answered. "Every body here... all the souls that we have destroyed... they are all here, bared for any to see." 

Hot anger sparked in Yugiri's chest. "What are you blathering about?" 

"Look closer." 

She did, ice trickling through her veins as the glaringly obvious became known: the bodies were all Ala Mhigan. 

"Are these..." 

"Innocents and rebels all slain by either our hands or our orders," the Soul answered, gleaming tears falling down his face. "So much pain and suffering... so much destruction and ruin brought on by us..." 

"Shut up," Yugiri's snarl escaped her lips before she even knew what was happening. "Where is Castor?" 

The boy gave a wry, bitter smile. "I am Castor, Yugiri. This darkness that we have drowned within is all that remains for us."

He knelt, his pale hand gingerly caressing the ashen face of a slowly burning child. "How can you possibly love someone like us? When you gaze upon all the death and ruin that we have caused, how could you possibly see a person instead of a monster?" 

Yugiri's patience snapped and she reached down to roughly seize the boy's collar before hauling him up to her face. His eyes were wide as he stared into her raging gaze.

"Where. Is. Castor?" She growled, mildly unnerved by how weightless the boy was despite the warmth of his clothing in her hand. 

The boy's expression hardened but he raised an arm to point in another direction. Yugiri followed his gesture to see a looming tower of darkness in the wastes, radiating death and malice that made her fine hairs stand on end. 

"You would be better off with another," the Soul warned. "You think you can be a light in this darkness, but it will only consume you." 

Yugiri dropped the boy and strode in the direction of the smoky tower, ignoring his final words as she struggled to keep her footing on the shifting corpses. 

"Can you see the families we have ruined?" That damn voice followed her as she stumbled over the corpses of a mother, father, and two children all clumped together. 

"We killed all of them."

More children, more people her beloved had ended the lives of. Others who looked upon this could likely only feel hatred and shock, perhaps, but Yugiri only forged on with different fears in her heart. 

Was Castor okay? Would she find him at that pillar or someone else? 

It felt like an eternity before she clawed her way over a rather large pile of bodies/, silently thanking the kami that her sense of smell was dormant in whatever nightmare this was, otherwise the stench of rotting or burning flesh would have overwhelmed her. 

As she crested the top of the hill, her heart froze in her chest. The base of the darkness spewing into the air lay in a nearly perfect empty circle, surrounded by corpses nailed to makeshift crucifixes of black iron. 

And in the very center of that darkness knelt a bare-chested Castor, his arms chained to the wastes and scars glowing scarlet all over his tombstone flesh and dark scales. His eyes were closed, framed by the untamed mangle of his untied golden hair as his face silently rose into the darkness, as if pleading with a god that wouldn't listen. 

Yugiri slid down the hill, ignoring the corpses she displaced as she bound towards the circle of black metal. The darkness kissed her as she drew closer, an icy chill slithering into her veins everywhere it touched her. 

"Castor!" She called his name, only for her voice to be swallowed up by the darkness. 

She reached the perimeter formed by the crucifixes and howled as her body slammed into a solid, unseen wall that racked her nerves with hot pain. 

Yugiri stumbled back, swearing softly to herself as she planted the tip of a dagger against the barrier.

"Castor!" She tried to shout again, but her voice was swallowed once more. 

She glanced at the crucifix closest to her and was stunned to see her own corpse greeting her, the empty mien chilling her very soul. Yugiri looked around at the others to see Lyse, Kan-E Senna, Alphinaud and Alisaie, Ysayle, Haurchefant and other faces she could not recognize.  

"By the kami," she whispered, unable to force other words from her mouth. 

"This is all that awaits for those who dare stand by the Weapon of Light," the Soul was back, hovering by her side. "Do you see now, beloved Yugiri? Do you see the monster that you have bound your soul to?" 

Yugiri's lips curled into a snarl as she stabbed out wildly at the boy, her blade passing through his body as if it never existed. "I said shut up!" 

"That's enough, Myste," Castor's rumbling voice pierced the veil, the darkness and the wasteland fading until only a faint void remained. 

Castor was standing behind the boy, Myste, his expression hard as he crossed his arms before his chest. "Keep trying to harm Yugiri, and I will give you a reason to feel sorrow." 

The boy vanished from sight, but Yugiri paid him no mind as she threw her arms around Castor's waist. 

"Castor, are you okay?" She whispered, relief flooding her heart as she breathed in her friend's musty scent and relished his warmth against her body. 

His powerful arms wrapped around her and held her closer. "I'm fine: it was just Myste being a pain in my ass again." 

"I... I saw horrible things," Yugiri murmured.

"He was showing you my sins in Gyr Abania," Castor's strained voice broke her heart. "All those innocent people, murdered by my hand or orders... Now you know why I am so familiar with what Doma's people are enduring: I caused that suffering to the people of Ala Mhigo." 

"Castor..." 

The darkness peeled away, returning to the cool night of the mountain spring in Doma, where Yugiri and Castor lay with their backs to the cherry tree. Castor's warmth didn't fade even though he moved away from her to stand, his duster rustling at the movement. 

"I have done terrible things, Yugiri: things I will never be able to forgive myself for," he said slowly. "Let's return to the others and get ready to go the Azim Steppe." 

Yugiri rose as well, pressing against his side as she looped an arm around his waist. "Castor, are you okay?" 

"No, but I have to push on," he answered, not looking at her. "Are you? Zenos hit you pretty hard." 

"That's not what I meant," Yugiri chided, unable to keep the hesitation from her voice as that monster's mocking voice echoed in her mind. 

Castor's end of the aetherial link buzzed with concern as he finally turned to her, his eyes filled with worry. "Yugiri?" 

She shook her head, willing herself to return to the cool, collected professional shinobi she was. "I am fine, my friend. Just... A little shaken by how powerful that monster was."

"I'm not surprised," he bought it, unable to see past her façade. "His strength shocks me, still, and this is the second time we have clashed." 

Yugiri nodded slowly. "Forgive me... I had hoped that both of us, combined, would have been able to overwhelm Zenos, yet..." 

"I am not shocked we failed, truth be told," Castor admitted. "But at least I managed to wound him rather severely this time." 

Yes... that gash that he'd opened upon Zenos' face after cleaving the demon's helm in twain. It had lit a thrill through Yugiri to see the crown prince bleeding before them, his eyes wide with awe and that... disturbing predatory glee. 

_"You are not worthy."_

Again with those blistering, mocking words! Yugiri tried to squash the shame that bubbled up within her breast, but it was impossible to push it away. 

_"Parasite... Unworthy of the strength you have stolen..."_

Castor had been injured trying to protect her, again, taking the full brunt of Zenos' attack while Yugiri just sapped his strength in a manic bid to surprise the crown prince. 

"Yugiri," Castor's soft voice drew her out of the internal turmoil. "His words trouble you, do they not?" 

Shame burned her cheeks as she lowered her gaze to the island, the sweet smell of the cherries mocking her with her own failures. "Am I even worthy of you, Castor? When we were fighting together, all I could do was get in your way..." 

"We were experimenting with that little trick, against Zenos of all people, Yugiri," his fingers were gentle as he tugged her chin upwards to meet his gaze. "You need not fear being unworthy, because you are irreversibly a part of me and I would not have it any other way." 

Frustrated tears budded in her eyes and she pulled her chin from his grasp. "Castor, I... I didn't even care what happened to you... I was so desperate to kill Zenos that I would have let you die if it meant..."

Kami, if he'd died because of her...

"Yugiri," Castor's voice hardened, drawing her eyes back to his. "It's okay. We're alive, we're together, and now I am certain that I will be able to bring Zenos to his knees the next time we fight." 

"Because I cannot fight him without acting as a parasite," the bitter words escaped her lips before she could contain them. "Because once again I must stand aside and let you face certain death alone."

Her heart throbbed with every beat as hot, salty tears leaked from her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to look at her beloved, lest he see how truly pathetic his soul-mate was. 

"Such is my purpose, my beloved Yugiri," he crooned gently, fabric rustling as he went to his knees before her. 

His gloved hands, so gentle and so soft, came to rest on either side of her face, drawing her gaze back up to him.

"Do not blame yourself for not having the strength to face Zenos: I am the only one who is capable of standing against him, and I do not hold it against anyone," he leaned closer to press their foreheads together, the warmth of his breath washing over her face. "Least of all you, my beloved." 

Yugiri inhaled shakily, the presence of his pounding heartbeat filling her. "Castor..."

His wry grin sent her heart flipping within her chest and filling her swimming head with fuzzy affections. She lunged and buried her face into his chest, fighting down the hot tears now staining his duster. 

"I love you, Yugiri," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. "And I will never stop no matter what happens. We will face this world together." 

"Together," she echoed, his declaration making her very soul sing and shudder within her as she huddled into his warm embrace. "My beloved Castor..." 

Her heart and his were bound forever. 

To think that chance meeting so long ago would turn into this! 

Castor glanced away, a spark of disappointment entering Yugiri at the loss of his loving gaze. "We should return to the others: they're probably waiting for us so we can make our way to the Steppe." 

Actually...

Yugiri shook her head as Castor returned his gaze to her. "I told them to rest and that we would continue in the morning. Lyse was very disappointed, but I assured her that I would take care of you." 

"Take care of me?" Castor raised an eyebrow even as a smirk curved his lips upwards. "I pray you do not mean with those blades of yours." 

A short laugh escaped her lips and Yugiri tugged her weapons from her waist, scabbards and all, to set them aside. 

"Better?" She teased, drawing a laugh from her companion. 

A shiver went through her body as his strong hands came to rest upon her shoulder and back with tenderness one would think impossible from such a fierce, war-hardened soldier. 

"Almost," his golden eyes were alight with mischief that made Yugiri's body shudder with longing. "Your armor is a bit too spiky for my liking, however." 

She leaned in with a smirk, their faces mere inches apart as she gazed into his eyes. "Then what are you going to do about it?" 

His fingers were already working: undoing the straps of her armor and letting the spiked metal and leather fall to the ground with soft thuds. 

"That," Castor answered when Yugiri stood before him dressed only in her shinobi's leathers, her heart pounding in her chest as heat coursed through her. 

She stepped closer, the world fuzzy as she focused solely on her beloved and draped her arms around his neck. Her body craved his touch, craved just... him. 

"Castor," she whispered the only thing that could squeeze past her lips. 

Nothing else... just his name. 

Her heart rate spiked as his powerful hands came to rest upon her waist, the electricity in his touch drawing another shudder up her spine. 

"Yugiri," he rumbled, and that shattered the very fragile veil of self-control that she had been struggling with ever since Castor had thrown himself between her and Zenos. 

Yugiri closed the distance between them, her lips meeting Castor's as her hands pulled him closer to her. His lips glided against hers with dizzying grace and warmth, her head pounding with her pulse as she pushed further. 

Yugiri tried to overwhelm him with a lightning fast assault, but his strength blunted her and pushed her back on the defensive as their mouths clashed. They pulled apart only to fill their lungs, breathing heavily, eyes never once leaving the other's. 

Castor leaned in this time and claimed her mouth with his own, his powerful grasp holding her against him as she eagerly yielded herself to her beloved. His tongue entered her mouth, a slick serpent that made her entire body shudder with pleasure as more heat coursed through her. 

Yugiri couldn't stop the faint moan from escaping her, silently cursing herself as she felt Castor's lips smirk against her own. 

"You are going to pay for that," she glowered through their bond. 

"Then make me," he purred back. 

"Prepare yourself!" She mustered her strength and shoved him back against the lone tree, forcing him from his knees to his rear before straddling him and pinning him down with her weight. 

Well, he could push her off as easily as one would an insect, but Castor's smirk as she claimed his lips and pushed past his defenses said otherwise. 

"I am prepared, beloved," he crooned, his gentle touch sending needles up her flesh wherever he caressed her. 

"Good," Yugiri answered as something hard rubbed against her undergarments. 

Kami, was she really going to do this? She'd often pondered what man she would give herself to, to grant her parents a grandchild, but... Castor had often been in her hopes in regards to sharing her bed, but to actually be with him... 

His hand squeezed her rear, drawing a surprised squeak from her throat as she pulled back to glare at him. He tasted sweet, somehow, and that shite-eating grin he was giving her drove her heart into madness. 

"You sly little..." She hissed aloud before Castor claimed her lips again and silenced her voice. 

The heat was almost more than she could bear as the two clashed once again, vying for supremacy before Yugiri again yielded to her beloved's power. His fingers slipped under the hem of her undershirt and Yugiri lifted her arms to let him pull the garment off over her head. She inclined her head downwards so her horns wouldn't snag the material and lunged the moment Castor tossed the shirt away. 

She kissed him fiercely, letting out all of the love she held for her beloved as she tangled with his tongue, unable to keep another soft moan from escaping her throat. The wind was cool against her bare flesh and scales, save for the chest wrap keeping her breasts covered. 

When next they broke apart for air, Yugiri rose to kick off her leggings and discard them before pouncing on her beloved and capturing his lips once more. Aether shimmered and his duster vanished, leaving him bare save for a loincloth that did little to hide the growing bulge of his manhood. 

"Castor," only his name escaped her as she continued ravishing him, the heat in her core accompanied only by a slick sensation that she had rarely felt in the past. 

He pulled back to gaze at her, lifting a hand to wipe away the spit on his mouth before placing his hands on her face with a lover's tenderness. 

"Yugiri, are you certain you want this?" He asked softly, his golden eyes shining. 

"What a foolish question," Yugiri chided, reaching down and removing her undergarments. "Does this answer you, my beloved?" 

Castor leaned forward and claimed her lips once more, his gentle hands still cupping her face as her bared folds shuddered against the cool air's electrifying touch. And why should she be the only one bared?

Yugiri reached down and ripped Castor's own undergarments off, not caring as the fabric ripped apart in her hands as she tossed them aside. She had seen his manhood before, during the long months they'd spent training, but not since he'd transformed into an Au Ra. It was, in proportion to the rest of his titanic body, massive from where it rose, lined with veins and leaking some sort of clear fluid from the head. 

Yugiri positioned herself over his manhood and carefully lowered herself upon it, gasping as pure heat pushed inside of her. 

"C-Castor," she groaned as waves of electricity arced through her core and sent shivers up her spine, Castor's lips planting hot kisses upon her neck, her collarbone, and anywhere else he could reach. 

His arms wrapped around her, holding her close to his chest as Yugiri fought down a whimper at the burning sensation searing into her inner folds.

"Yugiri, are you okay?" His worried voice filled their link.

"I will be fine," she sent back, gulping down air and pushing through the pain to lower herself further onto Castor. 

Miniscule inch by inch he entered her, his lips still leaving hot kisses wherever he could reach and coaxing a few moans from Yugiri until at last she could lower herself no further. Her breathing was heavy and her heart pounding as heat flared within her body, rivulets of sweat already lapping their cool tongues upon her scaled flesh. 

It hurt, it hurt so much, yet the pain was sending shocks of pleasure through her core as she allowed her body to acclimate to the feeling of being stretched by Castor. 

"Castor..." She gasped his name as she bent over to kiss his neck, the curve of his jaw, the scars she could reach from her admittedly awkward position as their sweat mingled and her body pressed against his. 

"Yugiri," he groaned back, nipping her collarbone and making her shudder again. 

The pain had faded considerably, replaced instead by waves of electric pleasure, and Yugiri experimentally rolled her hips. The resulting burst of electricity drew another moan from her lips as her body screamed for more. 

Castor wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, a groan escaping his lips as Yugiri continued grinding upon him, feeling his manhood sliding within her walls and zapping her with more and more pure bliss. 

She leaned over and slammed her lips onto Castor's, forgoing any sort of coherence as she devoured her beloved. He responded in kind, pulling her even closer and thrusting upwards into her. 

Yugiri screamed into his mouth and draped her arms around his neck, feverishly dancing within his mouth as electric pleasure continued ravaging her with each movement of their bodies. Their aetherial link was little more than the groaning of the other's name, the only time when Yugiri's shinobi training failed to keep her silent as the increase in pace impaled her upon his manhood again and again. 

His scent filled her nostrils as the sweaty excrement of their bodily fluids mingled, pressure building up inside her very core until Yugiri could handle it no longer.

"Castor," she groaned aloud before claiming his lips again and burying him even further within her already stretched womanhood. 

Their bodies were one, a reflection of their hearts and souls, and Yugiri moaned his name again as her body shuddered and screamed with release, exploding with wave after wave of pleasure that turned her entire world white. 

Her muscles turned to liquid as she slumped upon her beloved, gulping down air and clinging to Castor as tightly as she could manage. His thrusting had stopped, but her core still blazed with the heat of his presence inside of her. 

Yugiri lowered her head and buried her face into the curve of his neck, inhaling his scent as she recovered from her release. 

"Castor... I love you," she sent over their bond. "Your heart and mine shall be bound forever..." 

"Forever," Castor agreed, kissing the top of her head as he held her to him, rubbing gentle circles upon her back. 

Kami... she didn't deserve him. 

"Can we... stay like this?" She asked softly, the feeling of their conjoined bodies warming her to her very soul. 

"If that is what you want," Castor answered, his thunderous heartbeat finally discernable from the pounding of her own racing pulse. 

Yugiri kissed a scar curving his neck and hummed softly against his flesh. She settled herself down upon her beloved, angling her legs to make herself more comfortable. 

In the light of the moon and stars in the dark skies, Yugiri finally allowed her spent body to succumb to her wonderful exhaustion. She closed her eyes in the arms of her beloved. 

"Tribune?" One of the soldiers monitoring feeds from the Empire spoke up, drawing Severus' attention. 

"What is it?" Severus strode over to the man, peering down at the terminal his fingers were clacking away at. 

"Look at this," the engineer leaned away to give Severus a better view of the feed, which was a channel sending reports directly to Garlemald. 

"What the?" Severus couldn't stop a grin from forming upon his lips. 

Reports were flooding the capitol, each one describing unrest and rebellion from almost every single province languishing underneath Garlemald's iron heel. Rebel insurgents were renewing assaults and citizens were rioting in the streets, both backed up by Imperial legions who had apparently decided that they had had enough of serving tyranny. 

"I think that broadcast worked," the engineer chuckled. "The Empire's fighting more fires than it can possibly control now." 

Severus chuckled as well. "Agreed. I wasn't expecting full-blown civil war... but this is far better than I could ever have anticipated." 

Oh, Castor was going to love this! 

"Captain! Lieutenant!" A Sekiseigumi blade dashed into the barracks, gasping heavily. "We need reinforcements! Fighting has broken out at the Garlean Embassy!" 

Makoto jumped to her feet, Kongo swearing under his breath. 

"Send all available blades to the Embassy at once! Lieutenant, you will lead them!" 

"Yes, Captain!" Makoto mustered her courage and dashed out the compound, her sandals clacking against stone with every stride. 

She could hear gunshots coming from the Garlean Embassy, mixed with shouts and clashing steel. Civilians were staring in the direction of the fighting with wide eyes and concerned looks, watching as more and more Sekiseigumi joined Makoto in her dash to the battlefield. 

"Ho! It's quite a show, is it not?" Hancock called to her as she passed the Ruby Bazaar and came into sight of the Imperial compound. 

More Blades had surrounded the Embassy but didn't set foot inside the black steel gates, backed up by a line of black Imperial soldiers who were blocking the gates from within to prevent the fighting from spilling out onto the streets. 

"What the?" Makoto stared at the debacle as she drew closer, her fellow blades giving her confused looks. 

The Imperials were fighting each other, black and golden soldiers fighting and dying in the embassy as two sides clashed in a flurry of shrieking steel and booming gunshots. 

"For the Empire!" One commander cried before one of his fellows beheaded him with a massive axe. 

"A pox on your Empire! We will be free!" His killer roared.

"For Lord Castor!" Another raised a pistol and shot another Imperial in the back of the head. 

"Traitors! Oathbreakers!" Steel clanged and clashed as soldiers heaved against one another. 

Makoto kept her hand on her sword, ready to draw it should she need to as she watched the fighting unfold. The blades could not interfere, but at least they could contain the violence. 

Minutes felt like hours as they crawled by until the embassy fell deathly silent. The Imperials guarding the gates looked around nervously, unable to see inside, until the embassy opened to admit half a dozen bloodied soldiers. 

"Is it over, Tiberius?" One guard asked, his voice tight. 

"It is," the one named Tiberius answered in a weary voice. "The Imperials are all dead." 

The soldiers relaxed immediately, a few giving muted cheers before turning their attention to the audience. 

"What is going on here?!" Makoto demanded, stepping as close to the gates as she dared. 

Her blades followed at her side, katanas drawn and ready. 

"We have broken the chains binding us to the tyranny of the Empire," Tiberius answered, striding forward to meet her. "Thanks to our lord, we have found our courage and our hope that life can be different." 

"You don't mean Castor Entialpoh, do you?" Makoto frowned, racking her mind for any memory of him saying he was connected to the Empire. 

"Castor van Entialpoh, yes," Tiberius nodded, sending chills up Makoto's spine. 

"He's a legate?" Another blade gasped. 

"Aye, the Legatus of the Fourteenth Legion in Eorzea, where he's been fighting against the Crown Prince's Twelfth Legion in Ala Mhigo." 

"Is this happening all over the Empire?" Makoto wondered. 

"I hope so, if those reports are any indication," Tiberius commented. "Garlemald will be overwhelmed trying to fight itself." 

"We can clean up the mess here," another soldier said. "There will be no need for Kugane to fear us any longer." 

Makoto nodded slowly, turning her gaze to her blades. "Keep a contingent here to observe them. If anything happens, summon reinforcements immediately."

They saluted. "Yes, lieutenant!" 

That done, Makoto turned her back on the Embassy and began her trek back to the barracks, glancing up at the lightening sky. 

It would be time to put that linkpearl Castor had given her to good use.


	22. To The Steppe (And More Lingering Darkness)

Castor awoke to the brisk morning with Yugiri still laying atop him, her breathing soft and even and her doll-like mien serene. He shifted experimentally, dull pain stabbing the ravaged wounds where Nidhogg's eyes had once been imbedded in his flesh. 

Another curse from pushing himself too hard against Zenos: he'd gotten the hang of fighting without irritating the damn things, but he'd forgone that caution in favor of hurling everything he could at the monster. 

And, of course, with pleasuring his beloved Yugiri. Their coupling had been unexpected, to say the least, but he wasn't complaining. Her early release had denied him his own as she'd exhausted what little energy she'd had, but Castor found it easy to kill his instincts and just hold her warm body to his own as she'd slept. 

Even now, he was still inside of her as they rested, carefully shifting so as to not disturb his beloved. She clung to him, holding him inside, but it wasn't too uncomfortable. 

Castor sat in silence, enduring the pain of Nidhogg's eyes on his nerves until his linkpearl hummed. He reached up and prodded it, reminding himself to keep his voice soft. 

"Castor?" Makoto's voice filtered into his ear, full of hesitation and concern. 

"I can hear you," he replied, a sigh following his words. 

"Thank the kami. I don't know what's happened in Doma, but the Garlean Embassy just waged war with itself over here." 

Castor raised an eyebrow. "Waged war with itself? The Imperials were fighting each other?" 

"Many were chanting your name, _legate_ ," Makoto's voice was strained. "When were you going to tell me that detail?" 

"You didn't already know?" He scowled. "My apologies, I'd believed otherwise. Are the citizens unharmed?" 

"They are fine: some of the rebels had blocked off the embassy's gates to contain the fighting, but the Sekiseigumi are keeping a very close watch on it," Makoto sighed. "What did you do over there?" 

"I actually did little aside from attempting to kill the crown prince," Castor replied drily, hearing the samurai choke at his words. "If anything, it's my Tribune's fault that the Empire has all but been plunged into civil war: him and that broadcast that he apparently dispatched throughout the provinces." 

"Are you certain?!" Makoto's exasperated exclamation made his sensitive ears shriek in protest. 

"Yes," Castor answered, keeping his voice calm and praying Makoto would follow his lead. "It was his broadcast, recorded without my knowing, that was projected all across the Empire. I have already been in contact with imperial rebels in Doma who plan to fight back against Yotsuyu." 

"I suppose I will have to see if I can cajole the rebels in the Imperial Embassy to allow me to see this... broadcast," Makoto's voice was, thankfully, softer and calmer, as if she'd realized how she'd just shrieked into his ear. "Where are you now?" 

Castor glanced down at his sleeping soul-mate, her warmth still sinking into every part of him. "In Namai. We're going to head off to the Azim Steppe in search of Lord Hien shortly, and then I assume we'll be knocking down the gates of Doma Castle." 

"I see," Makoto exhaled slowly, as if gathering her wits. "Ugetsu is rumored to have his base somewhere in Yanxia, so perhaps you could search for it?" 

"I will look, but my own objectives must remain a priority," Castor answered, the aetherial bond buzzing as Yugiri stirred in his grasp. 

It flickered with confusion, contentment, then pure happiness. 

"Castor?" The voice that flickered over was drowsy with happiness and sleep. "Hmm, you actually let me..." 

"I understand," Makoto's words drew his attention once more. "Stay safe over there, my friend! I'll keep in touch!" 

"You as well, Makoto," Castor cut the connection and turned his gaze down to Yugiri to find her brilliant eyes gazing back up at him, his heart racing at the smile that curved her lips. 

"Good morning, my beloved," she crooned aloud, the shifting of her bare body wrapping his manhood with warmth.

"Sleep well?" Castor asked, his own lips curving into a smile as his heart skipped within his chest. 

Yugiri nuzzled his neck, a happy murmur escaping her throat. "With you? Always." 

Castor chuckled softly, feeling Yugiri's tiny heartbeat fluttering against his chest. The petite Au Ra turned her attention to the ragged tear in his shoulder where one of Nidhogg's Eyes had been, her lips caressing the savage scar and drawing a shudder from Castor's powerful body. 

To think such a gentle, loving touch would have so powerful an effect! 

Yugiri paused in her adoration. "You... did not finish last night, did you? I am unfamiliar with lovemaking, but I never felt you..." 

"It is fine, my beloved," Castor rumbled, gently rubbing circles upon the parts of her back not covered by her chest wrapping. "I am glad that you found the experience pleasurable, however." 

Yugiri's face flushed as she smiled up at him, the love shining in her irises making his heart melt. "I did. Perhaps we could... have a repeat performance sometime in the future?" 

Castor chuckled and nodded. "I would find that agreeable. However, now we must focus on finding Lord Hien on the Steppe, must we not?" 

Yugiri nodded. "Let us be off." 

She made to rise, her face flushing further as a faint moan escaped her lips at the movement of their conjoined bodies. It was tempting, sorely so, to just remain up here with her, like this, but they had a job to do. 

Castor placed his hands on her waist as she hesitated and lifted her up, pulling out and fighting back a wince as his manhood was pulled from the wet warmth it had become accustomed to and thrust into the cool air. 

He reached into his Armory and quickly encased himself with a new pair of underwear and his duster, rising and listening to his weapons clink against his waist. The wounds from the Eyes ached, but Castor pushed through them with a faint grunt. 

Yugiri glowered at him as she began putting her own clothes back on, picking up the pieces where they'd been tossed aside. "You must teach me how to do that." 

"Perhaps one day," Castor teased, nearly eating fabric as Yugiri threw her form fitting shirt at him. "Hey, now!"

Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she stuck her tongue out at him, earning an eye roll from her beloved as he chucked her shirt back at her. She deftly caught the garment and slid it over her body. 

Castor strode towards the glassy surface of the mountain spring and knelt on the shore, his gloved hands puncturing the blue and drawing a clear, shimmering puddle into his palms. He lifted it to his lips and drank, the cool liquid soothing his body as it ran down his throat. 

He repeated the motion until he had drunk his fill, rising and glancing back at Yugiri just in time to feel her lithe body alight upon his shoulders once more, legs brushing against his cheeks. 

"I thought you'd never finish drinking," his beloved shinobi teased, her hands resting atop his head. 

Castor grunted, the soft clinking of metal rattling in his ears. "Funny. Let's get back to Namai." 

He gathered his muscles, making certain Yugiri was stable, then leaped towards the great edges of the cliff surrounding the spring. Wind whipped past his face as he latched onto the craggy wall, peering over to see the vast valley of Yanxia spreading out before him. 

The village looked so tiny from up here, the neat lines of its rice paddies filling the landscape with rows of its crop. 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Yugiri breathed, the awe in her voice making Castor grin. 

"It is," he agreed before hauling himself over the cliff and beginning his downward climb. 

Castor slid down with ease, darting from one foothold to the other until his boots hit solid earth. Startled tigers snarled at him as they roused themselves, but one glare from the apex predator sent the beasts scrambling off for their lives. 

Weaklings...

Castor strode through the rocky hills separating them from the rest of Yanxia, the sweet scent carried on the cool breeze drawing a hint of nostalgia. It almost smelled like the forests of Gridania when they were in bloom. 

Yugiri swayed on his shoulders, not saying a word, but the love radiating from her end of their bond made her emotions more than clear to the object of said emotions. Well, him and Hien and Doma and her parents, anyway. 

"Hien is my lord and has earned my devotion," Yugiri reminded him. "You are my beloved Castor who has earned my love." 

Castor lifted a hand and stroked Yugiri's warm cheek with his fingers, grinning to himself as her strong hands clasped his own and a content hum escaped her lips. 

"Ah, what a wonderful thing to hear," Castor sighed, admitting that her words eased his heart in ways that few others could. 

Yugiri playfully jabbed him with her legs and the landscape changed from crags to bamboo forests and the valley surrounding the village. Several villagers were already up and working in the rice paddies, a few glancing up and waving as they recognized the duo. 

A couple of the poor souls did a double take upon realizing that Yugiri was riding on Castor's shoulders, but that did little to dissuade the shinobi from waving cheerfully back at them. 

"Ah, there you two are!" Lyse was waiting for them in the village center, her face lighting up the moment she'd spotted the two Au Ra. "Are you alright? I was so worried when you suddenly ran off..." 

Castor nodded, accepting the woman's excited embrace. "Just... Myste again." 

Lyse frowned up at him. "That part of you that's running around in Ala Mhigo? I thought he couldn't reach you here." 

"So did I," Castor fought down the urge to shrug. "I was clearly wrong." 

"Peace, my friend," Yugiri chimed in from atop Castor's shoulders. "Castor is stable."

Lyse grinned up at Yugiri, craning her neck to look fully up at the shinobi. "Of course: you were with him the entire time! I tried to follow you two, but you just vanished!" 

Castor fought down a smirk at that, barely keeping himself contained when Yugiri slyly rubbed her inner thighs against his neck. 

"Yugiri," he warned through their bond, answered only with a coy laugh. 

"Is everyone ready?" Castor spoke this aloud, glancing at the hidden entrance to the House of the Fierce. 

"Yes, actually! Dorgono's impatiently waiting for us," Lyse beamed, clasping his hand and tugging him forward as an excited child would. "Come on!" 

Castor allowed himself to be lead not to the House of the Fierce but to the foot of the village, where Alisaie, Dorgono, and Gorge were waiting. 

"Ah, there you two are!" Alisaie smirked at their approach. "You've had a rather eventful night, have you not?" 

Castor shrugged, ignoring her clever bait. "My damn Soul Crystal was being a little shite again, is all."

 _"Just the crystal, Castor?"_ His Darkside growled from within his soul, its hissing words slithering through the passages of his mind.  _"Are you certain you were not being a little shite, either? Jumping in between the legs of yet another weakling who was using you to make herself feel better? Loved?"_

Castor ignored it, pushing away the bitter memories of another night spent so long ago in the company of the Antecedent. 

_"It's_ _Minfilia_ _all over again, you know this._ _Yugiri_ _is no better than that worm: both took you to bed with claims of love and altruism, yet all they desired was the chance to make themselves feel better about themselves."_

Yugiri looked down at him; he could feel her gaze burning into the top of his head.

"I see," Alisaie frowned. "I must admit: I am quite surprised that Myste is capable of doing this from half a world away."

Castor sighed heavily, again resisting the urge to shrug. "As am I. I was hoping that he would leave me alone." 

_"_ _Minfilia_ _and_ _Nabriales_ _..._ _Yugiri_ _and Zenos..."_

_"One and the same; the two sides of a single, pathetic, mewling coin desiring satisfaction and hope."_

Castor bit down a growl and forged onwards as the group began moving towards the shores of Othard, Dorgono in the lead. 

"Castor?" Yugiri spoke through their bond but he ignored her as seething wrath trickled through his Soul. 

_"Witless fool. You really thought_ _Yugiri_ _gave herself to you out of altruistic love? She used you just like_ _Minfilia_ _did."_

"My beloved?" Yugiri's gentle voice came through their bond, her concerned tone only spurring more rage into Castor's veins. 

_"And you allowed yourself to be used. You never learn, do you?"_

"Well, this is as far as I go," Alisaie was saying as the group paused at the red gates marking the entrance to the valley. "Alphinaud and I are remaining in the House of the Fierce to see if we cannot get that aetheryte up and running." 

Castor nodded to her. "I wish you luck with your endeavor. We will return as swiftly as possible with Hien in tow." 

Alisaie walked off, shooting Castor a concerned glance before he strode forward through the gates, forcing Yugiri to flatten herself atop him before she smacked face-first into the red stone. 

Dorgono hurried to retake the lead, raising an eyebrow at Yugiri but saying nothing. Gorge followed in her wake, giving Castor a grin before falling into step by Dorgono's side. 

Lyse was all but bouncing on her feet from where she walked beside Castor as the group continued in silence, the heavy air of oppression all but gone. 

Yugiri was prodding Castor with her legs and knees again, trying to get his attention as he continued to ignore her mental pleas. 

_"Cut_ _our shackles. Set us free."_

_"To hells with this world, with the feeble struggles of insignificant insects."_

Castor bit down another growl, dark energies popping to life around him and crackling as the scarlet Darkside flared violently. 

Yugiri yelped and finally leaped from his shoulders, grabbing a passing tree limb and swinging up onto it as more fell magicks crackled around Castor. He strode on, feeling the pain and shock emanating from Yugiri and ignoring it as more heated rage poured into his heart and soul. 

"Castor?" Dorgono's voice was, for once, uncertain and hesitant. "Are you okay?" 

_"SERVE."_

_"SAVE."_

_"SLAVE."_

_"SLAY."_

The Void stirred and detached from Castor, swirling darkness and scarlet wrath leaking from his body to coalesce before him. In scarcely a few moments, Fray emerged from the swirling darkness, absorbing it as his golden eyes pulsed scarlet. 

"What the hells does that mean?!" Lyse demanded, interposing herself between the twins and Castor dimly realized that his Darkside had spoken those four words aloud. 

"Must we really enter into this yet again, Castor?" The Darkside sighed as he heaved his massive Deathbringer into his hands, black and gold pauldroncoat clanking with each movement. "How much longer are you going to demean us with this weakness?" 

Yugiri sprang from the trees, blades out, but the Darkside batted her attack aside with bored ease before slamming a foot into her stomach. The shinobi tumbled to the ground with a pained cry, kicking up dust with the impact. 

"Are you done, wench?" The Darkside intoned. "Or must I be the one to kill you to free us of your corrupting influence?" 

Castor's hand pulled his katana from its scabbard and aimed the gleaming blade at himself before he could even register what he was doing. 

"You will not harm her," he growled, the world tinting itself red with his hate. 

A vicious snarl escaped the twin's lips, mirroring the darkness that swam within the breast of the so-called Warrior of Twilight. "Then just try to stop me." 

Lyse's world spun as Castor's powerful hand grabbed her shoulder and heaved her aside, pain racking her nerves as hard ground smacked against her head. Steel shrieked behind her as she pushed herself back up, cursing under her breath. 

She looked up just in time to see the two Castors leap away from one another, two pairs of eyes glowing scarlet as feral snarls rattled from their lips. What in Rhalgr's name was going on here?! 

The Darkside, as Castor had called his black-clad twin many times, crouched in a stance favorable to his massive Deathbringer blade, the selfsame one Zenos had shattered in the Reach. And Castor... by Rhalgr...

Castor had adopted the previous stance he'd assumed earlier, holding his katana with a single hand rather than both, darkness bleeding from his pores. The Darkside barked harshly before lunging, his demonic weapon gouging a furrow in the earth as he heaved the massive blade in a brutal uppercut. 

Castor took a step back so graceful he may have just glided, his dark duster billowing wildly as the savage shriek of steel grinding against the earth erupted, darkness gouged into the air by his twin's massive weapon. 

"Fool," the twin hissed savagely, ducking under Castor's lightning fast reprisal and bringing his weapon up just in time for the katana's second swipe to bite the spiked core. "You cannot escape me.

"Our heart beats within our chests," The Darkside ducked under another strike and jabbed his massive weapon into the earth, black spikes erupting in a circle around him and driving everyone away to avoid being impaled. "Can you not hear it? Can you not hear my voice?!" 

"I can hear you just fine," Castor answered with a feral snarl. "And I do not have the time to waste on this nonsense." 

The Darkside spat at that. "Yet you ignore me, the voice of reason. Pathetic." 

Castor spat something in another tongue; the one that Lyse had sometimes heard him use when ordering his troops around. The Darkside snorted but responded in kind, his sneering voice drawing a snarl from Castor. They continued spewing phrases in that foreign tongue as their fight slowly ground to a standstill, their words almost lost to the din of screaming blades. 

Lyse could have sworn she heard Yugiri's name mentioned several times, and maybe her own?

"What the hells do we do?!" Gorge yelped, his axe drawn as he glanced nervously between the two Castors. 

The Darkside lunged again, drawing his massive blade in a brutal side sweep that Castor easily deflected with his katana. Steel shrieked as the two blades scraped together, Castor using his katana to redirect his foe's mighty swing as he ducked under it. 

Castor lunged with blinding speed the moment the Darkside's Deathbringer cleared his body, leaving its owner wide open for the lightning-fast riposte Castor launched. Garlean-made steel ripped into black cloth and gold metal with a scream, the Darkside stumbling backwards as black blood dribbled from the gaping wound halving his flesh. 

"Incredibilis," the twin rasped as he clutched at the gushing tear. "I keep underestimating you, Castor..." 

Castor was immediately at the twin's throat, menacing it with black-smeared steel "Enough games. Get back where you belong." 

"Hah, as if I have a choice... I will yield this time, but this isn't over..."The Darkside dissolved into a wispy Void that was absorbed into Castor, leaving no trace of the battle that had just occurred save for gouges in the earth and traces of black blood. 

Castor turned to look at the group, the scarlet glow of his eyes fading to their usual gold. "What? Let's get back to it: Gosetsu's already beaten us to Isari, I take it?" 

Lyse tried to swallow the lump that formed in her throat, found it difficult to dislodge.

"Yeah," Gorge spoke up. "He left a short time before you returned." 

"Then let's go," Castor strode over to where Yugiri was picking herself up from the ground, her head slowly shaking as she attempted to clear her vision.

The towering Au Ra knelt beside the tiny shinobi, his hand clasping her arm and gently pulling her up to her feet. Lyse watched as their eyes met in a silent conversation, Yugiri's irises burning with worry and shock until they flared with indignation. 

"I would never!" She roared aloud, flinching as she realized her error. 

"I know," Castor grunted but even to Lyse the words sounded hollow. 

He released her and continued down the path, black petals once again rising from his wake and flittering into nothingness. Yugiri looked after him, her face torn between anger and the affection that Lyse had come to know so well, as well as what appeared to be... guilt? 

"What happened?" Dorgono rounded on the other Au Ra, her bestial snarl not even stirring Yugiri as she stared after Castor's departing form. "What did you do to him?!" 

"We can't be left behind," Gorge placed his hand on Dorgono's shoulder and the woman redirected her glare to him. "We can worry about this later." 

"Agreed," Yugiri was immediately slinking through the trail after Castor, Warriors at her side, and Lyse dashed forward to keep up. 

She pushed past the two axe-wielding Warriors and scurried up to Yugiri, who was keeping a tight vigil on Castor's back while somehow managing to keep herself from tripping over the rocks and roots sprawling across parts of the earthen path. 

"Yugiri?" Lyse asked softly, the woman glancing at her. "Is everything alright?" 

The shinobi hesitated and Lyse noted that her hair was rather bedraggled and she walked as if her legs were a little stiff. 

"I do not know," Yugiri admitted after several moments of silence. "I pray that I did not just make a mistake..." 

"What happened?" Lyse pressed, fighting back the urge to flinch at the desperation in her voice. 

"It is not my place to say," Yugiri shook her head, a faint red tint coloring her cheeks.

Lyse couldn't stop an annoyed groan from escaping her lips, drawing an amused smirk from Yugiri. "I'll just ask Castor, then!" 

She dashed ahead before Yugiri could react, plowing down the earthen path after Castor's tall form. The air became tinged with the salty spray of the sea, the sound of waves crashing onto shore reaching her ears.

"Castor!" Lyse drew up behind him and carefully skirted around the shadow of the rising black petals before falling into step at his side. "What happened with you and Yugiri? Are you alright?" 

"I am fine," he glanced down at her. "And as for what happened, that will remain between Yugiri and myself." 

Lyse sighed and leveled her best scowl at him, her heart sinking as he merely raised an eyebrow at her in response. 

"What is that face you are making?" He asked, sounding as if he were trying not to laugh. "You look as if you are trying not to soil yourself." 

Lyse deflated, letting her body slump over as she walked at his side. 

"Ah, do not take it so hard," Castor's hand gently came to rest upon her shoulder, the heavy weight nearly throwing her off balance before she corrected herself. "As for the situation, I am certain Yugiri and I will resolve it." 

The tightness in his voice made Lyse frown even as her head nodded. "So you say. But... your Darkside..." 

"What it was saying is of no concern to you," Castor rumbled, the warmth in his eyes giving way to cold darkness. "Let us focus on finding Hien and dealing with the Steppe." 

He hesitated, cocking his head to the side as if listening to someone. "I know, Nhaama, I know. We'll be there soon." 

Lyse didn't bother asking as she fell into step at his side, the crashing of waves upon shore growing louder and louder until the worn forested path gave way to the soft sandy beaches of Othard's shores. Fishermen were already preparing boats or lines to cast as the duo strode out into the open, several jumping in surprise before relaxing. 

Castor waved and bowed before continuing on, Lyse fighting down a curse as she stumbled over a gnarled root from the forest before catching herself. 

"That's one impressive root," Castor muttered, eyeing where the thing snaked across the sands to the woods. "How the hells did it grow far enough for you to trip over it?" 

Lyse glared at the offending root jutting out tauntingly from the soft sands, resisting the childish urge to rip it up and tear it to pieces. 

"Impressive root, perhaps," Dorgono and Gorge were next to emerge, Yugiri nowhere in sight as the two Warriors studied the abnormal growth. 

"So, where are we bound for?" Gorge asked, tapping the root with his axe and raising an eyebrow as the growth squirmed. "What the?" 

Castor grunted. "Leave it: it is of no concern of ours." 

"I dunno, what if it's part of some creature or something?" Gorge prodded the root again, causing it to squirm once more. "We can't just leave it." 

"Fine," Castor's body flickered with aether, giving Lyse a brief flash of endless forests and churning life, and an emerald burst of light speared the root. 

The growth curled in on itself like a coiling rope, winding its way back into Yanxia until it vanished amongst the vegetation. Another vision flickered across Lyse's vision: this one of a gargantuan, dark-skinned fiend with six arms and great leathery wings. 

Castor walked away, striding towards Isari and waving to a few of the waking villagers who called out greetings to him. Lyse followed in silence, pushing her mind to its limits as she ran through a collection of scenarios that could have prompted this sudden infighting with her friend. 

So absorbed was she in her thoughts that she ran into Castor's back. 

"You okay back there?" Castor asked with a chuckle as Lyse shook her head to clear it. 

"Fine, sorry!" 

"Ah, you have made it!" Gosetsu was standing before a cave mouth carved into the cliff face towering over them. "Come, come! Lord Hien awaits us through here!" 

The grizzled samurai was beaming like a small child, his eyes gleaming before he turned away and strode purposefully into the cave. Castor followed, Lyse hurrying to catch up as she wondered where Yugiri had gone off to. 

Damp darkness swallowed them, the warm air still tinted with salt as the party made their way to the Azim Steppe. Castor's eyes began to shine with golden light the closer they drew to the Steppe, the air about him crackling with energy with each step they drew to the home of his benefactors. 

"I can hear it... calling to me," he murmured in a daze, the only other one seemingly excited for this homecoming being Dorgono, who was practically bouncing on her feet. 

"We're nearly there!" The axewoman had a great grin on her lips as she looked back at Castor and Gorge. "I can only imagine the looks on the Chagan's faces when they come across you two!" 

Castor chuckled. "They won't live long enough to make such looks." 

"We'll head for Reunion and speak with the traders to see if there's been any word about my tribe," Dorgono declared. 

"And Lord Hien," Castor reminded her, but Dorgono was all too happy to ignore him. 

The darkness of the tunnel yielded to a distant doorway of brightness and warm winds that kissed Lyse's face with each gentle whisper. Castor was a moving shadow in the light, seeming to absorb the golden rays as his pace increased and the brilliance grew brighter in contrast to the damp darkness. 

Lyse squinted through the radiance as her feet left hard stone in favor to soft grasses and packed earth, her hand rising to shield her eyes as a sea of green opened up before her. 

"Whoa," she gasped, unable to keep the words from escaping her. "It's..." 

Castor took one step upon what could only be the Azim Steppe and a shockwave emanated from his body, sending a great ripple across the vast green plains and a thundering voice echoing through Lyse's mind: 

_Welcome home, chosen of the Sun and Moon._


	23. Winds of the Steppe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait: work had been kicking my will to write repeatedly along with the time I had to actually write.

_Chosen of the Sun and Moon_

Cirina's head snapped up at the soft, echoing words that pounded through her skull, resonating in time with a powerful wave that swept across the Steppe. Au Ra from all over the vast plains, hailing from more tribes than Cirina could count, all stopped as one and looked around in a dazed confusion, eyes wide. 

_Welcome home_

That was... the voice of the gods! Yet, it was being projected through the entirety of the Steppe!

"What was that?" The merchant she'd been haggling with hesitantly broke the heavy silence that followed the gods' decree, drawing all eyes in Reunion to the two of them. 

"The gods have spoken to us all," Cirina dared to raise her voice, fighting down a surge of fear and the desire to shrink away as all the Xaela honed in on her. "They welcome their chosen home." 

"Their chosen?" One of the other merchants, some fish peddler from Isari, spoke up. "What does that mean?" 

"Hey, there's a group coming from Doma!" 

All eyes snapped towards the entrance to Reunion to spot this 'Chosen', awed oaths whispering from throats as a massive Xaela warrior taller and broader than any on the Steppe strode through the gates. 

His dark duster swayed behind him with every step like fell wings, a Doman-style curved blade hanging from his hip in that peculiar upside-down fashion. Golden hair the color of the sun was tied up in a bushy tail above his head, the ferocity in his golden irises sending chills up Cirina's spine as that gaze swept over Reunion. 

_This is the one_

Cirina could almost feel the presence of Azim and Nhaama inside of this warrior, the Sun and Moon radiating from his soul. 

More people joined him: a petite Xaela axewoman that drew the attention of a group of beaten nomads whose home had just been destroyed; a Raen who lurked in the shadow of the towering Chosen, her keen eyes sweeping over Reunion; a grizzled Doman samurai whose eyes were flickering excitedly hither and thither, apparently searching for someone; a golden-haired woman dressed in red, who was clenching and relaxing her fists as she fidgeted on her armored feet; and a burly axeman dressed in a foreign cuirass, a massive bloodstained axe strapped to his back. 

The silence was heavy and leaden, yet Cirina strode towards the Chosen as his gaze settled upon her, silently willing her forward. The power in those eyes made her flesh prickle but still Cirina moved until she was standing before the massive Xaela, craning her neck to hold his gaze. 

"The gods have spoken," the words escaped her lips as she bowed low. "Welcome home, Chosen of the Sun and Moon." 

"It appears I was expected," his rumbling voice filled every nook and cranny of Reunion, sending another shiver up Cirina's spine. "Perhaps I have Nhaama to thank for that... welcoming." 

"Lies!" A yellow-garbed Oronir warrior stomped forward, his eyes blazing with a challenge even as every Qestiri in the market honed in on him. "This one isn't even of the Steppe! He is not the chosen of the gods, let alone the Sun!" 

The Chosen's eyes glowed gold with power as he gazed down at the Oronir, the dark armor on his chest shining with sunlight as golden lines appeared on its surface. The lines stitched together to form the familiar mark of Azim, borne by select Oronir onto the battlefield. 

His shadow seemed to stretch and ripple, cold air rippling around his form as silver light flared from the darkness to form a crescent moon surrounded by pinpricks of white stars. 

The Chosen raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the two emblems. "Is this really necessary, you two?" 

_Of course_ _it is, my Moon._

Cirina fought down a smile that came at the Dusk Mother's crooning tone with the Chosen, although the Oronir looked as if he had just soiled himself. 

"I-I must inform Brother Magnai!" The poor man sprinted from Reunion as if his rear had just caught aflame, earning a snort from a blue-clad Dotharl who had been watching from a nearby stall. 

"Well, that was amusing," the Chosen mused before turning his gaze over the Xaela clustering to gaze upon him. "Do any of you know the whereabouts of a Doman named Hien?" 

Hien? That's who they were seeking? 

"I am acquainted with Hien," Cirina's mouth betrayed her. "We of the Mol have been caring for him ever since we came across him on the brink of death." 

The Raen and the old Doman immediately honed in on her, eyes alight with excitement and anticipation.

"Do you know where he is, pray tell?" The Raen strode forward with nary a sound, her spiked armor tight and form fitting as two short blades gleamed on her waist. 

Cirina nodded, her hand rising until she pointed at the towering cliffs lording over Reunion. "Hien has grown fond of the view from atop those cliffs. You should find him up there." 

The Raen bowed low. "Thank you, my lady!" 

Cirina caught the Chosen giving the Raen an undecipherable look before his features turned skyward, studying the great hills above them. 

"Then let us be off," he rumbled, ignoring the fact that everyone in Reunion was still staring at him. "If we are to get Hien back to Doma and take the fight to Yotsuyu, then we must move quickly." 

_You're forgetting something, Castor_

Castor... so that was his name! Cirina glanced around to see if any of the others had heard the powerful voice of the Dawn Father, but it appeared the Sun was more guarded with his words than his lunar counterpart. 

_We need you on the Dawn Throne. You must win the_ _Na_ _a_ _dam_ _and strengthen our bond_

The Naadam!? This was why he was here?! The battle would be taking place on the final day of the Tsagaan Sar, and the Mol had been commanded by the gods to join despite their lack of real battle fervor. 

Castor paused and nodded slowly at the Dawn Father's command, grim acceptance in his eyes. 

"I can take you to him," Cirina offered, stepping closer to the towering Chosen. 

"That would be appreciated," Castor bowed to her. "Ah, where are my manners? I am Castor van Entialpoh, and these are my companions: Yugiri, Gosetsu, Lyse, Dorgono, and Gorge." 

Definitely not from the Steppe, then, but why was he Chosen? 

"I am Cirina of the Mol," Cirina bowed to Castor, pondering on why his name sounded so familiar yet foreign at the same time when the titanic warrior bowed back to her. 

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Cirina." 

The merchant behind her cleared his throat, Cirina yelping as she remembered her reason for coming to Reunion to begin with. 

"Forgive my interruption, but I believe we were in the middle of something?" The man didn't make eye contact with her, stealing glances back at Castor. "If you want the kinsai, then I will need more coin." 

Cirina yelped. "No, I do need it! The gods specifically requested it! I was not thinking to pay so steep a price for it..." 

 "What price?" Castor immediately spoke up, the curiosity in his voice drawing the eyes of Cirina and the merchant both. 

The merchant briefly cowered underneath the Chosen's powerful gaze, but the poor man managed to stammer out the price that Cirina had desperately been attempting to lower via haggling. 

"I see," Castor dug into a satchel on his hip and withdrew a single, gleaming coin before holding it out for the merchant to see. "Will you accept these?" 

The merchant hesitantly snatched the coin, his eyes glittering as he examined the impressive workmanship on it. "These are well made, foreigner, and cleanly minted. I will accept them." 

Castor nodded and withdrew more coins before Cirina could protest, handing over the agreed amount and accepting the bundles of kinsai. "My thanks." 

The merchant bowed his head and took a moment to examine his new prize as Castor offered the kinsai bundles to Cirina. 

"T-thank you!" Cirinia could barely stammer the words out as she took the bundles into her arms before stuffing them into her satchel.

She silently offered a prayer to the gods for their guidance and to Castor for his generosity. "Blessed be he who shows generosity to strangers, for with fortune does he ever ride." 

Castor's lip twitched in an amused grin before his face hardened into a neutral mask hewn from granite. "Now let us find Hien." 

Cirina bowed to him. "I wish you good luck, my friend! I must return to Mol Illoh to make my Grandmother's meal, but I look forward to seeing you again!" 

"And I, you," Castor replied, gesturing to his allies. “Come, let us find our wayward lordling.” 

The Raen scowled at him at that comment but said nothing, although Cirina could have sworn she saw something akin to conflict within the woman’s eyes before the Raen steeled herself. 

Cirina dashed north, towards the Sea of Blades and Mol Illoh; her grandmother simply had to hear this!

Castor’s body buzzed with newfound energy every step he took, the Steppe itself filling him with power. Aether pulsed into him, power coursing into his veins and giving him but a taste of the boundless plains stretching out for miles and miles around the Steppe. 

“Beloved?” Yugiri hesitantly spoke through their bond, her light touch but a feather brushing against his arm. “Are you alright?” 

“I am,” he answered, wincing at the memory of how his clash with the Darkside had made him behave so coldly and distant towards her. “Are you, my beloved Yugiri?” 

He sensed the smile that formed on her lips just as easily as the joy that was emanating from her end of the bond. 

“I am. I... I am sorry if... last night...” her hesitation returned once more. “I wasn’t using you, Castor, please understand that!” 

His hand brushed against her cheek as she moved by him towards the base of the hill leading up to where Hien awaited. 

“I know, Yugiri. Believe me: I know,” Castor responded, glad to see her smile once again. “I love you, do not forget that.” 

“And I, you. I thought that Cirina was going to lead us to Hien, but it appears we got her off track.” 

“I suppose so,” Castor shrugged. “We shall find him on our own.” 

He led the way around to the base of the hills, fully aware of the silent gazes of the Xaela in the markets following him. Power radiated from them, he could feel it from every body arrayed before him as well as rippling from the Dawn Throne's towering visage. 

No wonder the Imperials hadn't attempted to conquer the Steppe: the tribes would be far too much for them to handle, especially if the Xaela united against a common foe. 

The group pressed uphill, Castor's eyes falling upon the black-haired Doman sitting upon the edge of the cliff overlooking Reunion, his colorful garb spread out below him even as he gazed out upon the Steppe. 

"My lord!" Yugiri and Gosetsu immediately fell to their knees before him, heads bowed. 

"Ah, you are come sooner than I expected," the prince mused, not turning to face them. "So; my sword or my head. Which would you have?" 

"The people of Yanxia remain loyal to Doma; I have seen the fire in their eyes. They are ready to rise up and fight, my lord! Return to us, blade in hand!" Yugiri spoke these words, at which Lord Hien sighed. 

"So naught less than liberty will suffice, then? A pity: it will prove far more difficult to deliver than my head. But, if my people wish to pursue an impossible dream, who am I do deny them?" Hien's kimono rustled as he rose, Castor's eyes momentarily gazing upon the misty designs sewn upon its surface. 

The prince turned, his eyes gleaming and a smile forming upon his lips as he gazed at his kneeling retainers. "Yugiri! Gosetsu!" 

Those eyes fell upon Castor, still gleaming even as the prince faltered. "And, uh, the Chosen of the Sun and Moon, I am guessing?" 

“I am Castor van Entialpoh,” Castor didn’t miss the hesitation in Hien’s manner, the surprise and fear that gleamed within the prince’s eyes. “And I am here to aid in Doma’s liberation.” 

Hien chuckled. “Then we are already in good hands. Yugiri has told me much of your adventures together; in fact, I cannot think of a time when she was not regaling me with tales of your exploits since our reunion!”

Yugiri’s side of the bond buzzed with embarrassment and pride, the latter slyly interjected to let her beloved know just how much of a mark he’d left on Doma’s prince already. 

Hien finally took notice of his friends’ kneeling and chuckled again. “Rise, my friends! We have much to do, do we not?” 

“Milord, we must return to Doma!” Yugiri said as she rose, glancing at the silent Gosetsu. “Your people need you.”

“Oh, I plan to return, alright,” Hien replied with a sly gleam in his eyes. “After I have won the Nadaam and earned the support of the Xaela.” 

Castor chuckled this time, respect for the prince’s forethought trickling through the buzzing of Yugiri’s surprise. “You plan to return to Doma at the head of a Xaela army?” 

“Precisely,” Hien beamed.

Impressive, Castor would give him that. “It appears our goals are one and the same, then: my benefactors have commanded me to win the Nadaam in order to strengthen our mutual bond.” 

He heard footsteps pounding towards the hill, turning to see a wide-eyed Dorgono sprinting full speed in their direction.

“Castor! The Chagan are marching on Mol Illoh!” the Warrior bellowed. “We must put an end to this now!” 

Convenient. 

Hien’s hand hovered near his blade’s hilt. “What? We must away immediately!” 

“Agreed,” Castor chuckled as Azim and Nhaama’s power filled him, their voices relaying the movements of the rogue Warriors and where Mol Illoh lay. 

To the north, amongst the Sea of Blades, tucked into the mountains... yes, that was where the first blood would be shed. Where the Chosen would make his first mark upon the Steppe. 

The group took off out of Reunion, Castor feeling every eye watching his back as the winds began to carry word of his arrival across the Steppe. 

He couldn’t help but smile to himself: he was finally somewhere he belonged, where even the land, itself, welcomed him home. 


	24. Beckoning Naadam

Yugiri’s beloved Castor was a legate. He was also possibly a demon. 

Hien shuddered as that black warrior flew ahead of the others with impossibly long strides, the gleaming silver of his katana a mimicry of moonlight as the weapon was pulled free from its scabbard. The group streamed over the Sea of Blades, crushing lush green grass underneath their feet as they sprinted towards the towering peaks of what the Xaela called Moonrise, at the base of which lay Mol Iloh. 

Hien hadn’t expected his people to be raring for battle, not after what had happened during his father’s failed rebellion, but perhaps he had Castor to thank for giving them this hope? 

“Kami... preserve me,” Gosetsu gasped, his breathing heavy and labored as the old samurai’s pace began to flag. 

Hien slowed his gait to match his friend’s, fighting down a wince at the bruises marking the old Doman’s flesh. What had happened to him? 

“Nay, my lord, do not hang back on my account!” Gosetsu predictably protested, but Hien ignored it. 

These lands were dangerous, with roving beasts coupled with marauders from one tribe or another looking to kidnap able fighters or outright kill them. It would be unwise to allow Gosetsu to wander alone. 

The duo flagged behind the others as they sprinted towards the plains by Mol Iloh, Castor in the lead with Yugiri and Lyse hot on his heels. Dorgono was behind them with Gorge, the Warriors hefting their axes into their hands. 

It wasn’t long before the rounded yurts of Mol Iloh came into view, tucked in a fenced-in encampment at the base of the mountains, red banners fluttering in the cool breeze that came cruising through. 

“Where are they?” Hien frowned, tearing his gaze away from the Mol idling about their homes to see that his companions had vanished, save for Gosetsu. 

“They went that way, my lord,” the old samurai pointed off to the west. “To intercept those Chagan warriors.” 

“Hien!” Cirinna called his name from the cookfire she knelt by, her cry catching the attention of several other Mol. 

“Hail, Cirinna,” Hien guided his old protector towards the woman responsible for saving his life, returning the sweet smile she gifted him with. 

“The Chosen and the others just ran by like mad wolves,” Cirinna exclaimed as she absently stirred the contents of the pot at her side. “What’s going on?” 

“Some savage warriors called Chagan are marching on Mol Iloh,” Hien answered, earning surprised shouts from the Mol. 

Cirinna shot upright, nearly upturning her pot’s contents before she grabbed it by a cool handle to steady it. “W-what?!” 

“It’ll be fine, I’m sure,” Gosetsu spoke up. “Castor is personally going to see to them, friend of the young master!” 

Oof, still with these formalities... some things never change...

“The Chosen is personally fighting the Chagan?” Cirinna repeated, many of the Mol instantly relaxing. “Will he be alright?” 

Gosetsu chuckled. “The question is: will the Chagan?” 

“I don’t think any of them will live, if the stories Yugiri has regaled me with hold any ounce of truth within them,” Hien murmured, delving into his memories to fish up from the depths the words recited by Yugiri. 

Castor had fought gods in the western lands, slaying them and absorbing their power to further strengthen his already inhuman strength. He was a warrior without peer, without equal in the world, to the point where the Garlean Empire was fortifying entire towns just to defend themselves from him.

One man. 

One demon. 

One monster. 

Of course, Yugiri never called him ‘demon’ or ‘monster’, but those words were accurate, nonetheless. 

The wind shifted, carrying with it the smell of blood and steel. 

“It appears the Chagan have clashed with our friends,” Hien frowned, straining his eyes over the rocky lands at the base of the mountain for hope of spying a glimpse of the battle. 

A faint tremor shook the earth, heralded by a booming explosion of aether in the distance. 

“The gods say we need not fear for our safety from the Chagan,” Cirinna announced after a moment, her entire being relaxing as she returned to tending to the food.

The other Mol did the same, utterly ignoring the shaking earth and distant eruptions in favor of their everyday tasks. 

Their utter devotion and trust in the gods never ceased to amaze Hien. 

“Cirinna, you say that the gods have claimed Castor as their Chosen?” he already knew the answer, but the anticipation and the silence were drawing knives up and down his nerves. 

The pink-haired Mol nodded enthusiastically, her eyes gleaming as she offered a warm smile. “You are correct: Castor van Entialpoh is the Chosen of the Sun and Moon. I heard from them that he is come to claim the Dawn Throne.” 

“He said as such to me earlier,” Hien nodded. “We’ll have to speak to him upon his return.” 

Cirinna nodded. “Grandmother wants to speak to him, too.” 

Hien nodded, stealing a glance at Gosetsu to see the old man standing tall despite his wounds, face hard as he gazed in the direction of the battle enfolding between Castor and these Chagan. 

And so they waited in silence until the tremors faded and several figures emerged on the Steppe, heading towards Mol Iloh. The titanic form of Castor was plainly obvious, towering over the two women at his side. 

“Gorge and Dorgono are not with them,” Gosetsu noted. “Did something happen during the fight?”

Hien frowned, concern flickering through his veins. Hopefully the two axe-wielding Warriors had managed to emerge without severe wounds. 

“The Chagan have been dealt with,” Castor announced the moment the trio was within earshot. “Dorgono and Gorge have taken some time to settle things between them in the meantime.” 

The titanic legate was covered in blood, reeking of its foul stench as he approached the encampment. Sharp eyes keenly observed everything as the Xaela studied the camp and the Mol who were gathering to stare at the gods’ Chosen. 

“Chosen of the gods, welcome to Mol Iloh,” Cirinna bowed, her tribesmen following her example. “It is our honor to host you.” 

“The honor is mine, my gracious friends,” Castor returned the bow, his body shimmering with light.

The blood and gore caking his form vanished into nothingness, thankfully eradicating the miserable stench from him as well. 

“The khatun wishes to speak with you,” Hien announced, attempting to speed things along a bit. 

Cirinna raised an eyebrow at him, a question in her eyes. 

“Is that so? Good,” Castor grabbed the girl’s attention again, studying the largest yurt. “I wish to learn how I may be able to take part in the Naadam.” 

“Well, the gods have publicly claimed you as their champion,” Cirinna reminded him. “Even the Oronir would have to acknowledge your right to take to the battlefield.” 

“Nonetheless, Nhaama has been tellling me of this... Mettle I will have to conquer in order to become a true warrior of the Steppe,” Castor gazed off into the distance, as if trying to see the sacred trial from here. 

“Bardam’s Mettle, yes!” Cirinna spoke up cheerfully. “To become a warrior of the Steppe, one must follow in the footsteps of the legendary Bardam of old and walk the path he walked.” 

Castor nodded. “Point the way and it shall be done.” 

Cirinna balked, her eyes wide. “So soon? But you haven’t even spoken with Grandmother, yet!” 

“Perhaps I should speak with her first,” Castor paused, glancing back at Temulun’s yurt. “May I?”

Cirinna scurried into the yurt, ducking past the flap, and Hien heard the two Xaela softly exchanging words. 

Then the girl poked her head back out. “She will see you!” 

“Very well,” Castor strode into the yurt, ducking to actually fit through the entrance, Hien quickly following Yugiri and Lyse inside as they trailed the Chosen. 

The elderly khatun was seated on her fur-lined chair, crow’s feet lining her face as she smiled warmly at Castor. 

“Ah, the Chosen of the gods at last graces me with his presence,” her eyes gleamed with wisdom and pride. “Welcome to our humble home, Castor van Entialpoh.” 

She started to rise, but Castor shook his head. 

“Do not stand on my behalf, honored Temulun,” the legate bowed to her. “It is my honor to be in your presence.” 

The old woman blinked several times as she gazed at Castor, squinting as if she was staring at something particularly bright and luminous. “I can feel them inside of you... you shine as if a second sun or moon, blotting out the stars, themselves, with your radiance. And yet there is so much darkness and rage...” 

Those gleaming eyes fell on the black hilt that adorned Castor’s waist, the one that Yugiri said was called Zantetsuken, and her eyes widened. “Such power... such darkness radiates from that weapon, my Chosen... I would be wary of using it overlong.” 

“Believe me, I know,” Castor sighed, his hand absently closing around the eikonic weapon. “But I often have no choice.” 

Temulun nodded grimly. “We rarely do, my Chosen. Ah, but you have entertained an old woman’s idle chatter for long enough, have you not? You seek Bardam’s Mettle so you might join the Naadam with the blessing of the Steppe.” 

“I do,” Castor nodded and then lowered himself to the floor to sit cross-legged at the khatun’s feet, earning a startled cry from Cirinna as he bowed his head. 

“You do not need to lower yourself so!” the girl yelped. “Please, you are a guest here!” 

“Guests must show proper respect to their hosts, no matter who they may be,” Castor responded. “I wish to honor you in the proper ways, if you would allow me.” 

Such humility and honor! Hien’s guard was already relaxing as he examined this titanic warrior’s diplomatic skills. 

Perhaps he’d been too quick to judge. 

“You already honor us by allying yourself with our tribe for the Naadam,” Temulun said softly. “At least now I know why the gods bade us to take to the battlefield. We would carry you to the Dawn Throne so you might take your rightful place as khagan.” 

“I need none to carry me, but I appreciate the offer,” Castor said with a wry chuckle. “Besides, I fear I am far too large for any of the Mol to physically carry, let alone the entire tribe.” 

Hien raised an eyebrow at that, stealing a glance at Lyse and Yugiri to see the women fighting smiles. 

Cirinna giggled and even Temulun loosed a small laugh at Castor’s teasing. 

“I jest, I jest,” Castor’s merriment faded in an instant. “If we are to become warriors of the Steppe, then we must away to Bardam’s Mettle as soon as possible, yes?”

Cirinna surged forward at those words. “Indeed, but let us treat you to a feast before you leave! The hungry fox starves staring at the bull’s testicles, after all!” 

Even Hien had to raise an eyebrow at that wording, the scrutiny of the guests making Cirinna stare back in puzzlement. 

“Have I said something strange? All warriors must be well fed on the eve of battle!” 

Castor chuckled. “This is a first: ordinarily people just throw me at whatever needs doing with nary a thought for my own safety, let alone cobble together a feast for me.” 

“What?!” Cirinna looked genuinely horrified as she held a hand to her chest. “That is inexcusable, my friend! No, I will make you a feast you will never forget!”

The woman hesitated. “As... soon as I gather the meat I need...” 

“Leave that to us, my dear Cirinna!” Hien stepped forward before he even knew what he was doing. “If you have no qualms, that is, Castor.” 

Castor shook his head. “I have none. What meat would you like us to acquire for you?” 

“Gulo Gulo was what the gods demanded for tonight’s meal,” Cirinna reluctantly gestured at several cloth sacks piled onto the floor by the yurt’s entrance. “You’ll find them near rivers or places scarcely traveled by Xaela.” 

The petite Xaela strode forward and clasped Castor’s massive hand with both of hers, the sheer difference in their size making Hien nearly do a double take. “Please take care of yourself, my friend! And thank you.” 

“Certainly,” Castor bowed his head before Cirinna released him, rising and nodding to Hien. “Shall we go?” 

Hien nodded. “Let’s!” 

The group pushed their way outside, where they were immediately met by a Mol standing beside a strikingly beautiful young Raen woman dressed in a red yukata. 

“Ah, Chosen!” the Mol man glanced down at the Raen, whose ruby eyes lit up the second she saw Castor. “I ran into this one in Reunion asking after you.” 

“Castor!” The Raen flew towards him, her ruby hair a blur as she buried herself into his arms. 

Yugiri stiffened, hands lingering near the hilts of her weapons as her narrow eyes honed in on the other Raen.  

“Kurenai?” Castor’s surprised voice grabbed Hien’s attention. “What the hells are doing so far away from Sui-no-Sato?” 

Isn’t that where Yugiri was from? 

Kurenai looked up, her eyes gleaming as an embarrassed smile curved her pale lips. “My apologies, Sir Castor, but when you never returned to the village as you’d promised, I’d feared the worst had happened!” 

“Ah,” Castor winced. “I got... sidetracked, my lady. I pray you will forgive me.”

“I spoke to some of the people of Isari and they’d said you had come this way,” Kurenai glanced around as if realizing how much of a scene she was making but didn’t release herself from Castor. “I had to see how you were faring.” 

Castor stepped away from her and knelt so he could face her directly, his hard eyes softening as he chuckled. “I appreciate the concern, my lady, but you’ve placed yourself into terrible danger coming here. You must return to Sui-no-Sato immediately.” 

“Lady Kurenai,’ Yugiri’s tone was tight, guarded, as the shinobi strode forward, Kurenai’s ruby eyes widening before she ducked behind Castor. 

“Lady Yugiri,” Kurenai clung to Castor’s duster as she hid behind him. “How... fortunate to see you here.” 

“Play nice, you two,” Castor growled. 

“She banished me from my own home,” Yugiri said evenly, her voice tight. 

“Because you disobeyed our mandates,” Kurenai replied with an equally even tone. “I would not have you bringing  _your_  enemies to our doorstep!” 

Hien glanced at Gosetsu, his puzzlement surely being reflected upon the older samurai’s face. 

It was. 

“Uh, who is this, pray tell?” Cirinna cheerfully inserted herself into the growing tension between the two Raen. “Any friend of Castor’s is welcome to Mol Iloh!” 

“She will not be staying any longer than necessary,” Castor growled. “Lady Kurenai is not a warrior of any kind and I will not have her coming to harm on my watch.”

The Chosen then frowned as he stared at the ruby Raen, “Come to think of it, how the hells did you get Shiosai to agree to this little stunt of yours?” 

“Um...” Kurenai stared down at the ground, fidgeting. 

“You had Hisui take your place, didn’t you?” Castor said drily. 

“Yes. She awoke shortly after you left.” 

Castor sighed and rubbed his temples with his fingers. “Kurenai, you know he is going to have a heart attack once he realizes the deception. The Azim Steppe is not safe for you, even if you are a chosen of Azim.” 

“She is also a Chosen of the gods?!” Cirinna exclaimed, pausing and cocking her head to the side as if listening to someone only she could hear. 

“Chosen of Azim, alone,” Castor corrected. “Nhaama holds no sway over the Raen, just as Azim holds no power over the Xaela.” 

“Truly?” One of the Mol asked, a devilish grin forming on her lips. “Someone ought to inform the Oronir, should they not?” 

Castor raised an eyebrow. “Did neither Azim nor Nhaama tell you that? Or that the twin gods are siblings rather than lovers, as the Oronir believe?” 

“They did long ago, but who would believe us?” another Mol woman sighed. “We decided it would be best to leave those details to ourselves.” 

“I’ll be certain to crush their hopes and dreams later,” Castor decided with such a casual air Hien couldn’t resist choking down a laugh. “But the safety of Kurenai comes first.” 

“Castor, I wish to learn more of our Xaela brethren,” Kurenai declared, not faltering even as Castor glared at her. “I will remain here in Mol Iloh until your business in the Steppe is concluded.” 

Castor clasped his hands before his face and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes during the motion before opening them. “Kurenai, please do not make this harder than it already is.” 

“How is it going to be harder than usual?” Lyse spoke up for the first time since arriving at Mol Iloh. “You single-handedly slew the leader of the Chagan and about a dozen mammoths he’d brought while we dealt with the others. Granted, the fight probably would have gone easier if Gorge hadn’t caught the Chagans’ attention by loudly declaring his love for Dorgono...” 

Hien fought down a cough. “Gorge did what?” 

“Loudly declared his undying love for Dorgono and caught the Chagans’ attention as we attempted to set up an ambush,” Castor replied. “The two of them are working things out now.” 

 By the kami, this was an odd group, to be certain! 

“And as for Kurenai making this more difficult, Lyse, how do you think some of the more hostile tribes are going to react if word of a Ruby Princess of the Raen being here spreads amongst them?” Castor again turned his gaze to Kurenai, although his golden irises were filled with concern rather than annoyance. “I do not want her to face any undue dangers.” 

“Then spread word that the Ruby Princess is under the protection of the Chosen of the Sun and Moon,” Kurenai suggested. “None would wish to draw your ire, especially once news of the Chagans’ defeat at your hands becomes common as well.” 

Castor opened his mouth to retort, then paused and scowled. “Damn it, that is actually a good plan.” 

Kurenai smirked at him, the expression rather sinister on her almost otherworldly beautiful face. “So you’ll allow me to stay?” 

“For now,” Castor replied, a small smile forming on his own lips. “But the second you’re placed in any danger, I’m personally taking you back to the Ruby Sea, got it?” 

“Agreed!” Kurenai beamed, the expression making her face light up with stunning beauty that made Hien’s jaw drop. 

Yugiri scowled at Castor and Kurenai, both, but said nothing as she directed her glare to the Ruby Princess currently holding onto Castor’s hand. 

The usually stalwart and composed shinobi, reduced to a jealous mess by the presence of one woman! Hien never thought he’d see the day! 

“Now, I believe you and I have some hunting to do, Lord Hien,” Castor rumbled, striding towards the outskirts of the village. 


	25. Blood and Shadows

“So, how was that?” Hien grinned as he heaved his sack of gulo-gulo meat onto the ground. “I, for my part, have slain six of the beasts!”

“Well done, my lord!” Gosetsu chuckled, an ominous gleam in his eyes as he glanced over at where Castor was sitting on a sack that was stretched almost to the brim with bulging meat. “Castor, on the other hand, has slain ten gulo-gulo!” 

“T-ten!?” Hien forced himself to laugh even as he studied the out of proportion sack. “It looks to me as if he’s slain far more than that!” 

“For some reason, the beasts that accosted me were abnormally titanic,” Castor grunted in response, the boredom in his golden eyes unnerving to gaze upon. “I slew ten, yes, but their great size allowed me to harvest more from their carcasses than you did from their brethren.” 

“Well, it appears I shall have to admit defeat!” Hien declared, finding it possible to laugh despite how much this Chosen warrior made his veins ice over with fear. 

Perhaps he was just judging too quickly. Yugiri, after all, regaled him with tales of Castor’s kindness and generosity, and she was not the sort to exaggerate. 

“Cirinna is going to either love us or hate us for this,” Castor chuckled as he leaped down and heaved the bulging sack over his broad shoulder. “I may have to lend her some aid in cooking these just due to the sheer amount, alone.” 

Hien found himself chuckling and nodding as he picked up his own sack and shouldered its heavy weight. “Indeed!” 

They slogged back to the encampment, the dying sun painting the skies a plethora of fiery hues that conjured an image of Doma Castle in all its beauty within Hien’s mind. 

Oh, how the castle shone and appeared ablaze in the dying light...the sight was without equal. 

“Cirinna, we’ve brought quite a bit of meat!” Castor called out when the pink-haired maiden was in earshot. 

“Heavens, you two!” Cirinna visibly balked, eyes widening as she took in the sacks. “I will be certain to whip up a feast since you saw it necessary to hunt so many!” 

“Would you need any help?” Castor set his load down as one would lower a sack of grain. “The meat I harvested from my kills was quite plentiful.” 

“How many gulo-gulos did you kill?” Cirinna yelped as she stared into the open sack. “This is enough to feed the tribe for weeks!” 

“Ten,” Castor grunted. “Damn things were abnormally huge and kept coming one after the other.” 

He glanced around at the staring Mol. “What you cannot use for tonight, save for the coming weeks.” 

“Castor! You’ve returned!” the Ruby Princess darted out of wherever she’d been hiding, her scarlet eyes gleaming with joy as she approached the Chosen. “How fared your hunt?” 

Castor gestured at the bulging sacks. “Quite well. I may send some to Sui-no-Sato given the absurd amount I’ve harvested.” 

“M-my word!” Kurenai yelped as she took in the spoils. “This is...” 

“A lot,” Castor grunted with a roll of his eyes. 

“That’s an understatement,” Hien muttered, fighting down a laugh as the Chosen snorted at the comment. 

The warm breeze shifted, carrying the scent of burning wood from the cookfires to Hien’s nostrils. Flames crackled and hissed, spraying flickering ash and embers as wood snapped. 

It stung his eyes a bit, but he had grown accustomed to the feeling during his time here. 

Cirinna eyed the meat sacks, determination setting her features as she nodded to herself. “Leave it to me! I’ll make you a feast like you’ve never had before!” 

“If you need any help, do not hesitate to ask me since I’m the one who brought back so much meat,” Castor offered. “Where are Lyse and Yugiri, by the way?” 

“They went with the children to get more fuel for the fires,” Cirinna replied, rolling up her sleeves and plunging her hands into the larger meat sack. 

“Castor! Come with me!” Hien glanced over to seen Kurenai excitedly dragging the Chosen in another direction, her eyes alight with joy. 

“How has our Ruby Princess been?” Hien asked Cirinna as she examined the meat cuts. 

“He cut and dressed them perfectly!” Cirinna didn’t seem to hear him. “I can just begin cooking these!” 

Right, perhaps it would be best to leave her be. 

“What is it, Kurenai?” Castor allowed her to drag him away from Mol Iloh, keeping his strength in check until she stopped at a boulder overlooking the tribe’s flocks of sheep. 

A young Mol child was scurrying about amongst the animals, keeping the beasts in check. 

The Ruby Princess beamed at him, her eyes beautifully gleaming as her smile warmed his heart. “I merely wanted some time with you to discuss something.” 

Curious. 

“Well, I am not needed anywhere at the moment, so I suppose I am yours for the time being,” Castor grinned at the way her face reddened at his slyly-chosen words. 

“What... do you plan to do once you have driven this Empire from Doma?” she finally found the means to speak again after a moment or two of opening and closing her mouth like a gasping fish. 

Castor studied her, studied her gleaming ruby eyes. “After Doma is freed, I will have to return to my homeland of Eorzea to continue fighting the Empire there. Our sister state of Ala Mhigo yet languishes under the iron heel, but that will change once we take the fight to the Imperial occupation.” 

“I see,” Kurenai’s soft face was writ with concern that reached into his dark, scarred heart and spread warmth within it. “When that fight is over, would you consider returning here? There is something of import I must speak with you about when you are free.” 

“Something that cannot be shared now?” Castor frowned. 

Was it really so vital that she didn’t want to risk burdening him on the battlefields? 

Kurenai shook her head. “Not now, not while you still have so much to do...” 

Her eyes took a far-off look as she gazed at the dying sun, ruby irises reflecting the orange-red flames. Her soft hands still clasped his, her unmarred flesh silken against his own calloused fingers. 

“I will trust your judgement,” he nodded, almost immediately feeling Yugiri’s burning gaze upon his back. 

“Castor, what is she doing?” his beloved’s tight voice filtered in through their bond. “Is she trying to take you away from me?” 

“I honestly do not know,” he sent back, smirking a bit inside as he felt her smoldering jealousy. 

“Thank you, my dear Castor,” Kurenai smiled warmly, interrupting his concentration on the bond. 

“ _Her_  dear Castor?” Yugiri hissed in response. “She has the gall to banish me from my home and now she tries to steal you from me!” 

Ye gods, protect him if he ever made the woman angry! 

Kurenai looked around with uncertain eyes, as if sensing the screaming rage directed at her from afar. “Do you... mind me calling you that?” 

“Not really,” Castor shrugged, Yugiri’s enraged growl drawing knives through his skull. 

“Castor, what are you-” 

“Yugiri, peace, my beloved,” he sent back to her. “She means well, I think.” 

“Do you?” Yugiri retorted. “After all, we are sworn to one another now, are we not?” 

Castor raised an internal eyebrow, forcing himself to nod as Kurenai said something about the warmth of the Steppe. “Are we?” 

It was Yugiri’s turn to hesitate. “Are we not? You and I... we... Did  _that_  not solidify our relationship? We did declare that our hearts were bound forever, did we not?” 

“That we did, but I wasn’t aware that you desired us to be... together in that fashion. I thought your heart belonged to Doma... to Hien.” 

“Castor!” Yugiri’s raw reply made him fight a flinch. “Have I not told you that I do not think of my lord in that fashion?  _You_  are my beloved, who my heart belongs to.”

 _A parasite to feed on our soul._  

 Hot rage burned through his heart, slithering through his veins. 

 _Why do you persist, Castor? Why do you let her remain a parasite upon us?_  

“Castor? What?” 

“Castor? What is that?” Kurenai’s grip on his fingers tightened as pain spliced his skull, painting the world red. “What is that voice?” 

She can hear it? She can hear him? 

_Give me the reins. Let me free us from this cycle._

“Castor, are you okay?”Kurenai was suddenly face-level with him, her eyes wide with concern and her impossibly soft, gentle hands cupping his cheeks. “What is that voice talking about?” 

_SERVE_

_SAVE_

_SLAVE_

_SLAY_

_WE WILL NEVER BE FREED WITH SO MANY CHAINS HOLDING US BACK_

_GIVE._

_CONTROL._

The darkness was screaming, reaching out from the abyss inside of his soul. Black fingers drenched in blood he’d shed were unfurling, grasping for him, closing their icy grip around body and soul. 

_YIELD_

“Castor!” two voices screamed his name, the bloodied fingers dumping him into the void where his Darkside lingered in the depths of his tortured soul. 

Even now, he stood there, bleeding dark energies from his body and Deathbringer protruding from the ground before him. 

“How many times must we continue this charade, Castor?” the Darkside asked, pure hatred radiating from his presence. “If you will not give me the reins, I will take them myself.” 

“Why are you doing this?” Castor pushed through the darkness, through the hot agony blossoming through his body as he glared at his twin. 

“Because you continue to waste our time, to waste our potential,” the Darkside chuckled. “With all the power we have accumulated, we finally have the chance to break free from the chains of the Alliance, the chains of the Warrior of Light. We can change everything if we but push on.” 

“Push on and anger the entire world at the same time?” Castor retorted, forcing a hiss down his throat as Nidhogg’s Eyes burned with phantom pain lodged upon his flesh. 

“If the weak cannot handle us, then let the beasts come,” the twin shrugged, his eyes pulsing scarlet underneath Fray’s barbut. “We will kill them all, one by one.”

“A monster who kills beasts,” Castor snorted, wincing as more agony bloomed within his ravaged nerves.

“Castor!” Kurenai’s voice made him jump, staring down at the tiny princess as she interposed herself between the two Dark Knights. “Get away from him, monster!” 

“Who are you talking to?” in a dark blur, the Darkside emerged with Castor’s face and body in Fray’s place, his eyes glowing scarlet still and a cold smirk on his lips. “We are both Castor Entialpoh.” 

It leaned closer, forcing Kurenai to loose a squeak and back into Castor. “We are both monsters, child.” 

The girl’s fists clenched the fabric of his duster, her shaking body stilling as she swallowed. “You are not Castor. The Castor I know is kind, noble, and valiant!” 

“Oh, sure, when he’s throwing himself into danger because some stunningly beautiful wench asks him to,” the Darkside snorted. “One that apparently developed quite the little crush on him.” 

Kurenai hesitated, her voice catching in her throat and silencing whatever she had been about to say. 

“That’s enough,” Castor was about to move in front of Kurenai, to shield her from his inner darkness, when the princess’ trembling stilled. 

“I agree: that is quite enough,” her voice was strong and radiating authority as a princess’ should. “You have tormented Castor for long enough!”

“Ha!” the Darkside snorted in response, a sneer forming on its lips. “Like you have any power over me, girl. I can kill you right here, right now, if I wanted to.” 

Castor snarled, drawing upon the chains that bound him to the Darkside. 

“You will not,” Kurenai ordered, placing her hands upon her hips. 

“Princess,” Castor hissed, gathering his power. 

Her soft, gentle hands clasped his own once again, the silken caress of her unworn flesh sending sparks through his nerves. 

“Peace, Castor,” she assured, not turning her back on his twin. “Allow me to handle this.” 

“Handle this?” the Darkside snorted. “How amusing, little girl, that you believe you hold any power over me. You’re just a child who has no idea how terrible this world can be and how much it has caused us to suffer.” 

Castor bit back a feral snarl. “It is cruel, yes, which is why Kurenai’s people have made a life for themselves in Sui-no-Sato, free from the troubles of the rest of the world. I would not drag them into this just because you hate how peaceful they are.” 

 Black-gloved hands wrapped around Deathbringer’s hilt, ready to pull it free. “I grow weary of this nonsense.” 

Castor closed a hand around his katana’s hilt. “Don’t you dare.” 

With the grate of wrenching metal, the twin pulled his Deathbringer from the ground and hefted it into both hands, dark energies rippling from the blade. “If I must kill you, girl, to free us, then I will. At least take comfort in knowing that you die in the arms of the one you claim to love.” 

Oh, for the love of...

Kurenai lifted a hand and shouted in a language Castor wasn’t familiar with, Azim’s presence filling the void with searing golden light. Warmth wrapped around the trio, and then the Darkside screamed. 

When the light faded, the twin was stumbling back, dropping Deathbringer as steam rolled off of his body. 

“Pitiful little brat!” it snarled, clawing at its eyes. “What did you do to me?!” 

“You will not torment Castor,” Kurenai ordered, her voice stern and radiating the authority of a princess. “I do not know much of the world above the surface, that is true, but I do know this: I will not allow the people I care for to suffer!”

“You cannot really control what makes me suffer, Kurenai,” Castor pointed out, and she peered over her shoulder with an exasperated expression on her youthful face.

“Just accept what I am trying to say, Castor. Now hush,” she turned her attention back to the Darkside. “As for you- ah!” 

Castor pulled her back just in time for Deathbringer’s blade to slash through the air where she’d been standing, a pulsing red gash left behind from where her head would have been. 

“Right,” Castor surged forward, steel whispering from its scabbard as his katana was unleashed. 

His arm still ached from where Nidhogg’s eye had embedded into his shoulder, but it faded into the background as he opened up with a lightning fast slash at his twin. Steel bit deep into dark flesh, his twin howling and stumbling back with a gash on his torso. 

Black blood dripped from the wound, steaming as it came into contact with the void. 

“D-damn it all!” the Darkside seethed, baring his fangs at Castor. 

Little more than beasts, aren’t we? 

Savage animals... lurking beneath the surface... just waiting to burst free. 

“Indeed,” Myste’s damnable voice echoed through the void, making the trio jump and look around, except the Darkside, who just snarled and squinted through burned eyes. “We are beasts, monsters who bear a nation’s worth of sins upon our bloody shoulders.” 

“Oh, piss off!” Castor snarled at the boy who materialized before the Darkside. “You are beginning to grate on my nerves, Myste.” 

“Myste?” Kurenai repeated, puzzlement in her voice. “Who is thi-”

The void shifted, displacing, and a familiar soul streaked out of the black, screaming as she dove directly for the boy. 

“Enough of this game!” Yugiri slashed through the boy’s form as if he were a specter, the shinobi skidding to a halt as she shot past him. “You will not... Castor?” 

She paused, the fury in her eyes fading to confusion as she stared at the two Chosen of Azim. “What is she doing here?” 

“Castor and I are both Chosen,” Kurenai answered in a tight voice. “Of course I am going to be able to share space within his soul.” 

“Ah, good, you are both here,” the Darkside drawled, his voice dripping with rage. “Joy. Now I can get rid of two of the parasites holding us down.” 

Its eyes were bleeding from underneath light-scarred eyelids, black blood streaming down its face as it raised Deathbringer once again.

“Add to our sins... to our suffering...” Myste clasped his hands before his chest and closed his eyes as if in prayer. “Let this beast be drenched in blood.” 

Something in the void snapped. 

“Enough of this farce,” red hot rage flooded Castor’s veins, his steel already singing as it slashed a bloody streak through the air. 

Myste and the twin screamed in sweet agony, their voices-his voice- music to his ears as both slammed onto the ground. 

Castor strode forward, gathering all of his hate into the confines of his blade, channeling all of his rage as his left hand tightened around the lip of the katana’s vacant scabbard. Scarlet bled from his katana, screaming with the pure violence radiating from its master, and Castor raised the weapon high. 

“CASTOR, STOP!” the deafening screams of both Yugiri and Kurenai froze his hand as the two split parts of his soul cowered before him. 

His body felt heavy, as if plates of heavy metal once again encased him, and he frowned as his now-unfurled hair swayed with each move he made. Why did it feel... longer? 

“Castor? Who... who is that?” Kurenai’s shocked voice matched her pale, wide-eyed expression.

“Who’s... who?” he stared at her, baffled, then realized that his voice wasn’t his own. 

It wasn’t as deep and sounded... silkier, like a purr, almost. 

It was the voice that followed him into the deepest pits of the void. 

Castor looked down, the leaden weight of the massive, dragon-winged pauldrons on his shoulders digging into his very bones. Thick black armor tailored to a massive body met his gaze, a multi-colored scarf wrapped around his waist next to the triangular scarlet surcoat. Scarlet textile billowed from his waist, frayed near the bottom and swaying with every move he made. 

The blade in his hand was a katana with a scarlet blade and black designs etched upon it, extending from a pure white hilt. 

“W-what in the abyss?” he whispered through the mouth of Zenos yae Galvus, dropping Ame-no-Habakiri to the ground and staring at the black gauntlets awaiting. 

“You really are the same, aren’t you?” Myste’s voice had strengthened, Castor’s head snapping back up towards him. “Monsters, the both of you.” 

“Shut up!” Castor snarled, his hand reaching for the revolving scabbards weighing down his waist. 

“C-Castor?” Yugiri’s choked voice made him freeze and look towards the two Raen. 

Like Kurenai, the shinobi was white-faced and bearing a horrified expression, her body actually trembling as she stared back at him. 

“Can you not see how we are the same as him?” Myste asked, drawing a growl from the Darkside.

“Shut up, you stupid boy,” it growled, still blinking through bleeding eyes and leaning on Deathbringer.

“Who is that?” Kurenai was looking between Yugiri and Castor for an answer, her eyes still wide. 

“This,” Castor inhaled deeply to calm his spiking nerves, Zenos’ damnable voice filling his ears, “is Zenos yae Galvus, crown prince of the Garlean Empire and the most monstrous man I’ve ever crossed blades with.” 

“Zenos yae Galvus?” Kurenai repeated slowly, her gaze roaming over the illusion. “He certainly appears... terrifying. Those eyes... I...” 

Castor looked away from her, well aware of how Zenos’ icy irises bore into the soul of whoever they gazed upon. 

“Enough of this,” he reached into the void, exerting his will, and forced the halves of his Darkside to yield. 

The void shattered, replacing itself with the twilight Steppe. 

Castor looked down to see his real body, sighing as he flexed his fingers. He could still feel the heavy weight of Zenos’ black plate and the revolving magitek scabbards. 

The Steppe sent a warm breeze across the green plains, dotted by the far-off glow of campfires from one tribe or the other along with those braziers that the Oronir were said to tend to. 

“Castor? Are you okay?” Kurenai was immediately there, gripping his hand with hers. “Is that Zenos who you’re going to have to fight in Eorzea?” 

Yugiri melted from the shadows, her arm outstretched and a concerned expression on her scale-lined face. “Castor?” 

Even his own soul was telling him he was no different than Zenos. 

“Forgive me, Kurenai” he raised a head filled with iron to the girl. “My own weakness put you in danger. If... if you want me to escort you home and never disgrace Sui-no-Sato with my presence-” 

Two hands smacked him- one on his torso, the other on his face after its owner leaped upon his shoulder. 

“Castor, shut up,” Yugiri whispered, the words almost perfectly echoed by the Ruby Princess.

“Why would I dream of abandoning you now?” Kurenai asked, her stunning ruby eyes filled with warmth and her pale lips gracing him with a tender smile. “I know I’m no warrior, but I want to support you anyway I can.” 

“You are still human, Castor,” Yugiri added. “You aren’t perfect, and you can’t do everything yourself.” 

She was still balancing on his shoulder, her lips next to his ear. 

Castor sighed, his keen ears picking up Cirinna’s voice on the winds: “Ah, Hien! The food has finished cooking! Do you know where Sir Castor has gone off to?” 

“It appears our feast is ready,” Castor shook his head. 

Kurenai’s face lit up. “Oh? Do you feel up to eating, Castor?”

“I do, actually.” 

“Then, let’s go,” Yugiri offered gently. “Come, my beloved.” 

Perhaps some food and rest would help him.

Even if Zenos’ voice resonated through his mind, taunting him with words unsaid:

“We are one and the same, Castor.” 

“Embrace me...” 


	26. To Conquer a Mettle

“That was delicious, Cirinna,” Castor sighed as he patted his full belly, marveling at how relaxed his body was at the sensation. 

Cirinna beamed at him, pride gleaming within her eyes. “Thank you, Castor! I’m truly glad you enjoyed it!” 

Castor nodded in response, glancing around at the dwindling company seated aside the crackling fires. 

Hien and Gosetsu had departed some time ago, both making some excuse or the other, but Castor could hear the men sparring out of sight from the camp. 

“She needs the rest,” Cirinna whispered in a sympathetic voice, nodding to a sleeping Lyse. “To come so far and carry so much... You ought to follow her example, my Chosen.” 

Castor chuckled. “I may yet do so.” 

Yugiri was absent, keeping an eye on her liege and Gosetsu as they sparred, and as for the Ruby Princess...

A light weight settled upon Castor’s side, drawing his gaze down to the tiny Raen dozing off against him. Her face was serene, beautiful, even, as she lingered in her dreams. 

What dreams awaited her in the void? Dreams of peace? Love? A future husband? Whatever dreams awaited a princess who’d never known war and chaos, Castor didn’t know. 

“She looks so peaceful,” Cirinna cooed. “She was talking to me earlier, asking me about the tribes of the Steppe and what we knew of the gods. She was quite interested in what we know of Azim and how he and Nhaama interact with us.” 

“I imagine so,” Castor kept his voice low so as to not disturb the sleeping girls. 

He glanced over at Lyse, another image of Yda flickering in his mind. He’d have to tell her sometime soon... lest he lose himself to his inner conflict entirely. She deserved to know from him, rather than another source who could potentially use it to strike at Castor. 

Another source named Myste. 

“They’re both quite fond of you, you know,” Cirinna murmured, a gentle smile on her lips as Castor raised an eyebrow at her. “Lyse thinks the world of you and Kurenai’s quite smitten, if I do say so myself.” 

“Really, now?” Castor drawled, fighting down a growl as his heart skipped within his chest. 

Cirinna nodded cheerfully, her eyes glittering with mischief. “Oh yes, indeed! She regaled me with the story of how you rescued her village from a monster and you should have seen the way her eyes light up with adoration as she spoke!” 

His cheeks heated but he quickly forced it back down as he chuckled. “I see.” 

“When the two of you walked away earlier, I was under the impression the girl was going to confess her love to you and ask you to be her husband,” Cirinna added slyly, the wicked light in her eyes making Castor raise his eyebrow at her again. 

“I... do not think I would be a good husband to anyone,” he admitted, glancing down at Kurenai’s sleeping form. “I have far too many enemies and far too much to do. They would be in constant danger, neglected...” 

He shook his head. “No, I must walk this bloody path alone.” 

“You need not carry on alone!” Cirinna exclaimed, pausing to catch herself. “After all, you have your friends and you have us!” 

Castor winced. “Aye, perhaps that was a poor choice of words on my part. And thank you, Cirinna.” 

The pink-haired Mol beamed and nodded. “Of course, Castor. Do you feel prepared to conquer Bardam/s Mettle?” 

“As if I had any other choice,” Castor replied, mentally kicking himself for sounding so dark. “I must succeed; there is far too much riding on me claiming the Dawn Throne for me to fail.” 

Cirinna nodded. “So you have said.” 

Castor sighed, shifting his position so Kurenai would hopefully be more comfortable in her chosen place. He would have to rest soon if he was to be in any state to challenge Bardam’s Mettle in the morn. 

He closed his eyes and allowed the void to claim him. 

Yugiri remained silent as she watched her liege and Gosetsu sparring, their blades ringing with each clash as the two men dueled. 

“It appears your wounds do not trouble you,” Gosetsu commented. 

“The same could be said for you,” Hien grunted back, parrying a strike. 

It warmed Yugiri’s heart to see her lord in high spirits, yet whenever she closed her eyes to savor that peace, the vision of Castor transforming into that monster haunted her sight. So much hatred and rage had filled his heart, radiating from half of his soul while the other radiated sorrow that made her heart ache. 

By the kami... so much suffering and hatred churning within one man... how could he even hold himself together? 

To see him transform into that monster... the icy, emotionless stare burning into her very soul... that visage still mocked her with his sneering words.

_You are not worthy_

_A parasite_

_Without him, you’re nothing_

Was Zenos right? If even the darkest parts of Castor’s soul were agreeing with that monster’s accusations, then was there some small merit to the words? 

Yugiri quashed the bitterness before it projected through her bond with Castor, though she could feel him falling asleep. 

Good, the poor man desperately needed the rest. 

“Ha!” Hien shouted as he got under Gosetsu’s guard, gleaming steel menacing the older man’s vitals. 

He’d improved and mended well, all of Doma owing the Mol a debt for saving their lord’s life. 

And now Yugiri had Kurenai vying for Castor’s attention, the scheming, backstabbing little...

With a heavy sigh, the shinobi shook her head and resumed her vigil, silently watching over her lord as he sparred, oblivious to the internal turmoil engulfing his retainer. 

/There were no dreams in the void, this time. The darkness was all-consuming, drowning out everything else. Only when the tiny warmth on his side stirred did light beckon from the darkness. 

Castor’s eyelids peeled open to the warmth of the rising Steppe sun, just beginning its ascent into the sky. 

Kurenai grumbled in her slumber at his stirring, her sleeping face almost too beautiful to believe as Castor glanced down to study her. 

“Ah! You’ve awakened!” Cirinna’s voice drew his attention to a nearby cookfire, the scent of cooking meat wafting into his nostrils. 

The woman nodded, a cheerful smile on her lips as she returned to stirring whatever was in the pot. 

Castor looked around, noting that he and Kurenai were the only ones still asleep at the remains of last night’s fire. “Where is everyone?” 

“Lyse, Hien and Gosetsu are training some of our warriors for the upcoming Nadaam,” Cirinna answered. “The other Raen, the shadow-walker, has been going between the training and the camp, checking on you.” 

Heh, that protective shinobi never changed, did she? 

“I see. Thank you, Cirinna,” Castor glanced down at Kurenai to see bright ruby irises gazing up at him from a stirking porcelain face, pale lips curved into a gentle smile. “Morning, my lady.” 

“A good morning to you, too, Sir Castor,” Kurenai responded, the sweet lotus scent of her breath wafting from her lips. 

“Am I going to remain your pillow or may I stand?” 

Cirinna giggled at the words, Kurenai’s melodious voice joining in moments later. 

“Oh, I suppose I could be persuaded to let you rise,” the Ruby Princess smirked, her spirit burning stronger since her defiance in the face of Castor’s Darkside. 

“Or I could just stand and leave you hanging around my neck,” Castor answered, his heart flipping as Kurenai’s lips curved into a most adorable pout. 

“Is that any way to treat a lady, Castor?” Hien cut through the air, his laughter making Castor raise an eyebrow at the prince as he approached. 

“It likely isn’t,” Castor admitted, bowing his head to Kurenai. “Forgive me, my lady.” 

Kurenai rolled her eyes. “You’re fine, Castor.” 

A laugh escaped his lips as the Ruby Princess pushed herself off of him and rose, her full height barely reaching his head from where he sat.

She was so tiny compared to him...

Castor rose to his feet, grunting as his muscles stretched at the movement. The warm breeze caressed his face, sending its fingers through his long, tied-up hair. 

“Right, so we eat and then it’s off to Bardam’s Mettle?” Castor guessed, glancing over at Cirinna. 

She nodded. “Warriors must be well fed on the eve of battle, no?” 

“So you say,” Castor chuckled, slowly shaking his head. 

Hien chuckled as well. “I must admit I rather like that saying.” 

“Castor,” Yugiri’s voice filled his head. “How are you feeling?” 

“Well rested,” he sent back. “You, my beloved?” 

She hesitated at his choice of words. “I... I am fine.” 

Castor frowned. “Yugiri?” 

She did not answer despite the hesitation and the internal warring that was radiating from her side of the bond. 

“Yugiri, is it Zenos’ words again?” He asked, the way his beloved churned at the words confirming his suspicions. “Yugiri? My beloved?” 

“I... I don’t know if I deserve to be called that,” Yugiri’s words were a hoarse whisper, intense guilt burning his throat and tightening his chest. “All I’ve done is burden you and provide nothing more than trouble.” 

“Yugiri, you are so much more than what you’re thinking,” Castor crooned gently. “If not for you, I would have probably turned into another Zenos by now.” 

She soured, making him wince at his choice of words. 

“Because of me, you already have suffered a fate near to that,” Yugiri muttered. 

“You stood by me when so many others abandoned me,” Castor reminded her, pushing his affection for the shinobi through their bond. “If I didn’t have you by my side, I do not know what kind of monster I would be now.” 

Yugiri said nothing, the bitterness radiating from her flushing Castor with the desire to seek her out. 

“Say, Castor?” Kurenai’s broke through the stasis. “I don’t think you’re a monster.” 

 “You haven’t seen the worst of what I’ve done, my lady,” Castor retorted, a sudden realization making his blood run cold. 

“Wait, you can hear us?” Yugiri demanded, her voice rising in pitch. 

“Yes, were you not aware of that?” Kurenai sounded genuinely surprised, even as Castor fixed her with a stare and her voice radiated without her lips moving. “I’d thought you were aware of our connection.” 

She raised an eyebrow as Castor scowled and shook his head. “No, Yugiri and I were under the assumption that our chats were private.” 

“Twas not my intention to eavesdrop!” Kurenai’s eyes widened with horror, embarrassment and shame warming Castor from the third link that he should have bloody noticed by now! “Please, forgive me!” 

Castor took a moment to glance around, satisfied that nobody was staring at him in confusion; Hien was occupying Cirinna as the two exchanged words, speaking of Bardam the Bold. 

“How long have you been listening in?” He sent through the now three-way bond, Yugiri’s smoldering indignation and rage making his Darkside churn inside of him. 

“Not too long,” Kurenai began. 

“How. Long,” Yugiri snarled, the tight anger in her voice making Castor step closer to Kurenai in anticipation of an assault. 

“Since I arrived on the Steppe,” the princess admitted softly. “I thought the two of you had allowed me to share in the bond you share, so I didn’t think...” 

“So you know Castor and I are bound together, heart and soul,” Yugiri growled, a possessive hand clasping Castor’s arm. “You will not take him from me.” 

“Truly?” Kurenai raised an eyebrow, the disbelief in her voice making Yugiri’s grip tighten. “From what I was hearing, you two seem to be having some conflict where that’s concerned.” 

Castor opened his mouth to interject aloud, to change the subject before somebody noticed the tension between the trio. 

“Hey, the stew’s done!” Cirinna cheerfully interrupted, breaking the tension in an instant and forcing Yugiri to back several paces away from Castor. “Castor, you must tell me what you think!” 

The Mol woman thrust a steaming earthenware bowl into his hands, excitement gleaming in her eyes as she waited with an expectant look upon her face. 

It was indeed a stew comprised of leftover meat doused with native vegetables and spices Castor didn’t recognize. He gingerly lifted the tiny wooden spoon ladled with food and placed it into his mouth. 

The hot warmth flushed his taste buds, the spices alighting within with a taste that was hearty and invigorating. 

“It’s certainly giving me energy,” Castor smiled at the expectant Mol girl, her eyes gleaming with joy. “It’s great.” 

Cirinna pumped her fists with excitement. “Thank you, Castor! I’ll go serve it to everyone else!” 

Without waiting for his response, the girl snatched the bowl and dashed away, not noticing Yugiri as the shinobi slipped past her and made a beeline for the Ruby Princess. 

“Yugiri,” Castor warned as he stepped in between the two Raen. “Don’t.” 

“Ah, there you are!” Hien, Gosetsu and Lyse strode over, all three of them carrying bowls of Cirinna’s stew. “Have you eaten, Castor?” 

“I have no need of food as of yet,” Castor sighed inwardly, thanking Nhaama for this distraction. “Take your time and then we shall depart.” 

 Lyse frowned. “Are you certain? I don’t want you to neglect yourself.” 

“I will be fine, trust me,” Castor waved off her concern. “If anything, I may go ahead to Bardam’s Mettle to ensure that no ambush has been laid for us.” 

“Nay, my friend, it would perhaps be best if we stuck together on our travel there,” Hien shook his head before digging into his stew. 

Castor nodded. “Very well. I shall explore around the Sea of Blades, then, perhaps return to Reunion for some time while you prepare yourselves.” 

“All we have to do is eat and we’ll be ready,” Lyse pointed out before burying herself into her bowl, Gosetsu chuckling as he dug into his own. 

Castor sighed inwardly; damn them! 

Kurenai, on the other hand, had a solution to the problem facing them: the girl tugged on Castor’s arm, an excited gleam in her eyes as she gestured at the mountain looming over them.

“Castor, I’ve heard that there is some sort of ruin on these mountains. Do you think we could take a quick look while your companions are eating?” She asked, glancing at Yugiri. 

Castor looked at his allies, who nodded even as they shoveled stew into their mouths. “Very well, but we’ll have to make it quick.” 

Kurenai grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the village, beaming as if excited for the trip to come. Castor kept a hand near his katana as the two Au Ra swept across the vast plains of the Steppe, hugging the base of the mountains as they went. 

“Castor, I want you to understand that I didn’t purposely intend to eavesdrop,” Kurenai spoke softly as the two came to a pass leading up the mountainside, the girl stopping to clasp Castor’s hand in hers. “Please, forgive me.” 

“It is not he who needs to forgive you,” Yugiri’s icy voice announced her presence as the shinobi slunk into plain sight. 

“Yugiri,” Castor sighed. 

“Are you going to hate me forever?” Kurenai asked drily, her face a mask of innocence as Yugiri leveled a murderous glare at the girl. 

Castor raised an eyebrow at both of them, making certain they saw. “Is this really what the two of you are going to reduce yourselves to?” 

The two Raen locked gazes with him, gemstone eyes gleaming. 

“You are both better than this,” Castor itinerated, placing a powerful hand on each of their tiny shoulders. “Now get along or I will chain the two of you together.” 

 _“Um, Castor? I think all of us know that would be a terrible idea,”_  Azim’s voice carefully interjected.  _“And please get to_ _Bardam’s_ _Mettle so you can remove those_ _Oronir_ _fools from the Dawn Throne. We’re running out of time!”_  

“It was worth a try,” Castor shrugged. “Now, how shall I deal with you two?” 

He slightly tightened his grip on their shoulders, both women flinching. 

 _“You could make your feelings clear on the both of them?”_  that was Nhaama, her drawling voice hiding the excitement she was projecting.  _“If you wanted my advice,_ _however, I’d_ _go with_ _Kurenai_ _. She’s a lot less_ _temperamental_ _and not involved in a war.”_

The bloody Dusk Mother was enjoying this. 

“Castor, you know my heart belongs to you,” Yugiri whispered, a pleading look in her eyes. “Don’t let her take you away from me.” 

“So Castor is your possession now? Fascinating,” Kurenai seethed, the third side of the bond resonating with a desire to protect Castor. 

Well, at least they could see eye to eye on that regard. 

“You two are behaving like children,” Castor rumbled, the girls flushing with embarrassment but refusing to lower their glares from one another. 

He released them and stepped back, pondering on the shift to Kurenai’s shift of temperament. She was ordinarily so soft-spoken and timid, but something in her spirit had grown since confronting his Darkside. 

“Forgive me, Castor,” Kurenai murmured, finally tearing her eyes away from Yugiri. “I... I have been acting like a child and it is unfair to you.” 

“It’s fine, Kurenai,” Castor turned his gaze to Yugiri, who hadn’t shifted her glare. “Yugiri, while we are at Bardaam’s Mettle, I would like you to keep an eye on Mol Iloh and Kurenai.” 

Yugiri tore her gaze from Kurenai at that, her eyes wide and mouth opening to protest. 

“Yugiri, please,” Castor pressed. “We need someone to watch the village while the rest of us are at Bardam’s Mettle.” 

“But that means I will be forbidden from taking to the field on the Naadam,” Yugiri scowled. “I won’t be able to fight by your side.” 

“Kurenai will need to be watched to ensure her safety,” Castor answered. “I don’t want another incident like the Chagan appearing out of nowhere while we’re fighting in the Naadam.” 

“Then make Gorge or Dorgono or both of them watch the village!” Yugiri exclaimed. “Let me fight with you!” 

The desperation in her voice ripped at his heart, tore at the bond between them. He wanted to reach out, to enfold her in his arms, to bring her with him. 

“Castor! Where are you?” Lyse’s calls echoed on the winds, summoning him to take the path to Bardam’s Mettle

Before he could make a decision, however, Kurenai made it for him. 

“Go, Yugiri,” she commanded. “Consider that a direct order from the Ruby Princess. Walk by Castor’s side since I cannot.” 

Oh, by the gods... that damn girl. 

“Consider it done,” Yugiri seized the opportunity before Castor had the chance to refute it, her wicked grin mirroring the beautiful princess’. 

“Damn the both of you,” Castor growled. “Let’s go: Lyse is calling us.” 

The two Raen shared victorious, smug expressions, which Castor ignored as he pushed past them to retrace their steps down to the Steppe. 

“Oh! There you are!” Lyse and the two Domans were waiting for them, Lyse waving excitedly. “Did you find that ruin?” 

Ah, yes. The cover of the deception. 

“No, but we’ll have more time to explore later,” Castor answered, turning his gaze back to Kurenai. “Kurenai, I’m afraid we’ll have to part ways here.” 

She sensed his irritation with her and Yugiri, no doubt the shinobi did as well, the princess’ features softening as she nodded and clasped her small, silken hands around his own calloused, war-hardened boulder.

“I’ll stay safe with the Mol,” she promised. “Go and do what you must.” 

Her fingers tightened around his, concern radiating from her end of the bond. “And stay safe, please.” 

“I’ll try to do so,” Castor nodded, lowering himself until he could study her eyes. “If anything happens, I want you to get to Reunion as quickly as possible. The Qestir will protect you.” 

He glanced down as Azim’s power stirred within his breast, the sigil of the golden sun momentarily flashing upon his black armor and mirrored by Kurenai’s chest. 

“As will Father Azim,” the princess nodded. 

“Come on! Let’s go!” Lyse urged, impatience radiating from her in agitated waves. 

Castor nodded and carefully extracted his hand from Kurenai’s grasp, about to rise when the girl lunged for him. Her lips came to rest upon his cheek once again before she pulled back, concern glittering in her ruby eyes. 

“Please, be careful.” 

That done, the girl turned away and retraced her steps to Mol Illoh, blissfully unaware of the two older women glaring daggers at her back. 

“Let’s go,” Castor rumbled, collecting his thoughts. “Stick together: there are bound to be some marauders roaming the plains, waiting to abduct or slay the unwary.” 

“Right,” Hien punched the palm of his hand, grinning wickedly as anticipation shone within his dark eyes. “Let us conquer this Mettle, my friends!” 

And so the party moved on, pushing across the vast plains of the Steppe. Not too far into the journey, the wind warned Castor of oncoming horses and the clinking of weapons. 

“On guard,” he growled, reaching down and unsheathing his katana. “Cavalry.” 

Weapons were drawn around him, his allies turning their backs to the mountains and steeling themselves as a dozen nomads emerged from the hills of the Steppe, galloping forward atop beautiful brown horses.

Each Auri warrior carried a bow in their hands, expertly pulling back on the thick ‘strings’ and aiming vicious looking arrows at their prey. Each nomad was dressed in a drab grey, a tribe that the group hadn’t come across yet. 

Weaklings... they thought to find easy prey? 

Hot rage burned through Castor’s heart, slithering through his veins. Death would come to all who defied him. 

He drew upon the power of his benefactors, upon the Moon and the Dusk, and unleashed it with a swing of his blade. 

Silver moonlight streaked from his steel, carving through the air, nomads screaming as Nhaama’s power ripped through their scales and flesh. 

Bodies fell from confused horses, spraying blood across their mounts before the beasts cantered away, looking for direction. 

Arrows whizzed by overhead, skittering against stone or thudding into the earth as the surviving nomads urged their mounts onward, ignorant to their doom. 

Another whisper entered his nerves, guiding his hand, led his body through motions he hadn’t attempted before.

Castor drew upon the darkness within him and unleashed it with another strike, black rose petals rising from the wake of the shadows that erupted from his katana. The nomads’ bodies fell from the streams of darkness, blood flashing, their mounts cantering away in confusion. 

Castor sheathed his katana, glancing back to see the entire company staring at him with wide, stunned eyes. “What?” 

“I’ve... never seen you do that before,” Lyse spoke up, fear glittering in her gaze. “It was like you sent shadows out and just... sliced them apart.” 

“You looked like Zenos,” Yugiri’s whispered voice stopped Castor in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat. “That attack... it looked just like the move he used against you back in Yanxia, except it was pitch black.”

The attack of Ame-no-Habakiri? Truly? 

“That... was terrifying,” Hien spoke up, the Doman lord’s eyes wide. “I don’t think Bardam’s Mettle will be able to stand against you.” 

Castor shrugged. “We shall see. Let’s keep going.” 

In silence, the group trudged on, passing by some ancient mausoleum on their way across the vast plains of the Steppe. According to Nhaama, it was called Ceol Aan or something akin to that: Castor wasn’t really paying attention to the Dusk Mother as she spoke about it. 

Zenos was all that lingered in his mind, that demon’s haunting visage peering at him from the void, mocking him. The phantom weight of his draconian armor made his shoulders ache, the burning hilt of Ame-no-Habakiri searing his palm even though he carried no weapon within it. 

The plains spread out, expanding until tethers decorated with flags filled Castor’s vision, along with roaming stone slabs with faces etched upon their fronts. 

_Behold,_ _Bardam’s_ _Mettle._

The stone faces immediately took note of the group’s approach, swiveling towards them and humming with energy. 

Castor strode forward, ready to deflect their attacks, and the lights dimmed. The faces swiveled away and slid into formation until two walls of stone formed an aisle through the sea of banners and columns. 

“It appears they recognize me,” Castor drawled, striding into the aisle with his comrades following closely. 

The visages didn’t move as the group passed, their aisle still and silent until they opened up to a canyon mouth leading further into what Castor could only assume to be Bardam’s Mettle. 

“The path will split to several, but they all end at the same place, from what Cirinna was telling me,” Hien stepped forward, a forced smile on his lips despite the gleam of fear and grudging respect in his eyes. “We’ll have to enter at different times, however, to ensure that two people don’t take the same path.” 

Castor let his gaze roam over the assembled group, frowning at their numbers. “There’s five of us here, so let us hope there are enough paths available.” 

Hien nodded. “Cirinna seemed certain there would be, so I find no reason in doubting her.” 

Yugiri’s concern and dislike of the circumstances were radiating from their bond, followed by tentative concern from the Ruby Princess.

“Then I shall extend the same trust to both of you,” Castor strode towards the entrance to Bardam’s Mettle, the burning rage of his inner Darkside clashing with the presences of his benefactors. 

Lyse cracked her knuckles, grinning excitedly. “Let’s do this!” 

Hien punched his palm. “Let’s!” 

Castor plunged into Bardam’s Mettle.


	27. The 'Children of The Sun'

“Ha!” Yugiri ducked and rolled as the massive buffalo-like beast steamed through the area she’d just been standing, scattering the sheep that had been grazing in the circular flats alongside her. 

Once again her daggers bit into the thick hide, dragging through the matted brown fur but barely scoring its flesh. 

Yugiri bounded away, a snarl forming on her lips as she watched the beast slowly trot to face her again, blowing hot air from its wide nostrils as it shook its great head. It had poor eyesight but extensive smell, somehow picking up Yugiri’s scent the moment she’d approached after sneaking her way past two stone doors emblazoned with Auri visages, guarded by moving slabs. 

She could almost feel those visages frowning at her back, burning her with their disappointment. But why? 

The great beast shook its head again and bellowed, scattering more of the nearby animals before stomping forward. Its hooved feet gouged the earth with each thunderous step, throwing clods of mud and grass into the air. 

Yugiri again shot to the side to avoid it, the beast stampeding past until it splashed into the river flowing on the outskirts of the knoll, expanding out towards the rest of the vast Steppe. 

“Now!” she formed Mudra with her hands, calling upon the kami of lightning with the two symbols. 

A bolt of pure heat formed in the air and slammed into the river, turning the entire stretch into a crackling, flaring hell. The beast screamed as lightning arced throughout its body, flesh and fur blackening and filling the air with its foul stink. 

The great beast collapsed, shaking as earth as its massive body crumpled, muscles still spasming as smoke rose from the charred patches. 

Yugiri exhaled, drawing on her shinobi’s calm to soothe her racing heart before placing her daggers back into their scabbards and continuing on the path she’d been following. A massive canyon opened up before her, the crags streamlined with Auri banners and great statues holding what appeared to be hammers. 

She jumped down, crossing the rocky bridges leading deeper into the canyon, her metal boots clicking against stone with each step she took. 

Birds shrieked, Yugiri dropping into a defensive stance as her eyes lifted skywards to spot the perpetrators. Large falcons were streaking towards her, talons extended and beady eyes alight with cruel intelligence. 

Her hands dropped to her kunai and shuriken, gathering the projectiles between her fingers before launching the barbs of steel at the swooping predators. 

Her aim was true: the falcons squawked and plummeted into the canyon with steel blades protruding from their bodies. That done, Yugiri continued down the path, not stopping until one of the statues suddenly came to life, slamming its ‘hammer’ onto the ground before her.

When it lifted, stone monstrosities rose from the impact site and attacked her, aetherial cores shining within their chests and presenting their weak spots to Yugiri’s keen eyes. She dashed forward, blades flashing into the chinks of the stone armor and piercing the soft core beneath/ 

One by one, the process was repeated until the beasts crumbled into piles of stone, and Yugiri made her way forward until another statue slammed the ground with its hammer to release more monsters. 

She danced the same dance, reducing her assailants to rubble while their heavy fists whipped through the air where she’d been standing. More falcons dive bombed her from the sides, these too meeting their ends upon the shinobi’s thrown blades. 

A gargantuan statue holding two of those hammers lorded over a rounded platform ahead of her, and Yugiri awaited the conflict to come. 

 _“You who would walk the steps of_ _Bardam_ _the Brave...”_  a resonating voice echoed through the canyon, rattling Yugiri’s bones. 

She could almost feel the statue glaring at her, assessing her worth. Then the air grew cold. 

 _“You are not worthy.”_  Yugiri’s heart almost stopped in her chest.  _“_ _Hie_ _you from this sacred place!”_  

“You must be joking!” the snarl ripped from her throat as she clenched the hilts of her daggers. “I am not leaving! Not now!” 

 _“_ _Hie_ _you from this sacred place or face the consequences!”_  the voice boomed. 

Zenos’ voice slithered into her mind once again, echoing those damnable words. “You are not worthy.” 

Hot rage and shame burned her breast and her cheeks, her breathing coming out harder and faster than it ever had. 

She wouldn’t turn back now! Not after coming so far! Not when Castor was counting on her! 

The giant raised its hammers in preparation to crush her, and Yugiri’s training kicked in. She could hear rushing water somewhere from behind the giant, some sort of waterfall, maybe, so all she had to do was get behind it. 

She sprinted forward as the great hammers swung downwards, shaking the earth with the deafening crash of stone on stone as the platform erupted from the force of the blow. Yugiri rode the shockwave, wincing as the impact slammed into her body and threw her over the edge of the platform. 

Right into the gushing waters of the roaring fall descending into oblivion. The water was icy, the impact shocking every nerve on her body as she rode the current until it spat her out moments later. 

One of the benefits of living in the Ruby Sea: she was quick in the water and had the blessing of the kami. She couldn’t drown. 

Yugiri reached out and grabbed one of the banner-lined cords stretching over the void, her gauntlet screeching against the line as she swung down towards a yawning cave mouth. Wind slapped her face as she descended, drawing tears to her eyes while her hair whipped about wildly around her. Multicolored banners smacked against her one after the other, their cloth tearing and falling into the canyon as they were ripped from their tethers by her momentum.

Yugiri let go over the torch-lit cave mouth, her body jarring as she landed on stone. Her gaze swung into the cavern gouged deep into the mountains as she strode forward, stopping upon a wooden platform. 

There were stone buildings erected on either side of a road, some sort of obelisk right beneath her feet and a rounded door at the other end. Yugiri leaped down to the cave floor, her landing soft as her powerful muscles absorbed the shock. 

Rage still warmed her heart, making her hands tremble as she stomped forward through the ghost village, daggers in hand. 

That damn statue thought she was unworthy? Useless pile of rubble... she’d show it and Zenos just what she could do!

No... no, calm! Calm, Yugiri! 

She inhaled, drew upon her training, upon that center. The warmth abdicated slightly, easing her mind enough to where she could actually focus. 

Better. 

Yugiri exhaled and crept through the shadows, jumping as the round ‘door’ dropped to the floor and rolled down the provided aisle. She flattened herself against a wall as the massive orb rolled past, crashing against the pillar and spraying her with debris. 

Yugiri coughed, spitting out rock dust and brushing shrapnel from her form before continuing forward. Some odd automatons on wheels attempted to intercept her, but quick strikes to their heads and necks reduced them to lifeless husks. 

Enormous butterflies swooped at her, but they met the same fates the falcons in the canyon had: shot down by projectiles. 

More of the ghost village awaited, as did more butterflies and automatons. Another giant ball rattled down the aisle, a shelled magamata beast screeching as its body was crushed beneath the boulder. 

Yugiri winced at the disgusting crack the creature’s shell made, wincing again as a second boulder flatted the shattered carcass underneath it before rolling away to join its brother. 

The butterflies descended upon her, falling with blades in their bodies like the rest of their kindred. Yugiri pressed on, tearing through the automatons that rolled up to her one after the other until all that remained was a large cavern filled to the brim with weapons thrust into the ground and walls cratered with what looked like nests. 

Yugiri strode past the weapons and stood in the center of the cave, powerful eyes once again settling upon her form. Many of them, unseen yet sharply intelligent on their own. 

This had to be where the Yol roosted, where they would test her. 

As if on cue, the powerful screeching of a great bird shredded the cavern air, making Yugiri’s ears ache. A beautiful creature with wide, majestic wings and a commanding aura swooped down from one of the holes in the ceiling, its plumage rippling with each beat. 

Gleaming eyes locked onto Yugiri, the air pounding her in waves in time to those thundering wings. 

“I am here to prove myself to you,” she announced to the great bird, whose eyes gleamed dangerously as they studied her. 

Then that cold gleam hardened, its dagger-like beak opening and emitting another shriek loud enough to scrape through Yugiri’s skull. The Yol dove towards her with shocking speed, pain knifing her arms as its talons closed around the limbs. 

Yugiri tried to thrash against the beast’s powerful hold but was helpless as it rose into the air, soaring out of the hole in the ceiling.

Wind howled against her face as the Yol soared over the Mettle, leaving canyons and stretching plains far below it until the familiar sight of the entrance came into view. 

“No... no! Stop this!” horror dawned on Yugiri and she clawed at the talons holding her, fear and hate and shame burning through her all at once. 

The Yol paid no heed to her pleas and struggling, soaring towards the lone figure standing at the entrance of the Mettle, one whose black duster, grey armor, and golden hair were all too recognizable even from here. 

It was hopeless. 

Despair clutched Yugiri as the Yol soared closer to Castor, her world spinning as the talons nearly ripping her arms from their sockets abruptly released her. 

“What in the abyss?” Castor’s surprised exclamation soon fell into the background as metal slammed into stone and Yugiri tumbled upon the ground.

Hot pain spliced her body as she skidded against the ground, her head swimming and hair smacking her face as her tumble finally came to an end. 

Grass held her battered, bruised body with the tenderness of a lover despite the haze that now swam before her, some mud clinging to her scaled cheek. 

“Yugiri!” Castor’s voice chilled her with the concern radiating from it. “Get away from her!” 

The Yol was hovering above her: she could hear and feel the powerful gusts buffeting her with each beat of the bird’s great wings. Castor’s shadow fell across her and she buried her face into the ground as hot, frustrated tears once again budded within her eyes. 

The bird screeched, sounding like it was talking to Castor as it chirped and squawked. 

“Not worthy?! What the hells are you going on about?” Castor’s snarl followed the bird.

More squawking. 

“She doesn’t carry the warrior spirit of the Steppe? Behaved in a manner unbefitting of a warrior of Azim and Nhaama?!” 

She could feel his rage, a hot and blistering sun compared to the feeble embers of her own anger. 

“C-Castor,” her voice was a meager croak as she lifted her head from the ground. 

The Yol landed lightly in front of the Warrior of Twilight, bowing its head in respect as it chirped softly to him. A second Yol was perched upon the closest stone pillar, its form massive compared to its brethren and brilliant grey plumage lined with unusual silver lines that glittered like moonlight. It too had its head bowed but was keenly staring at the Yol chattering to Castor, a fierce protective light in those sharp eyes of its.

“She is unworthy?! An insult to the proud warriors of the Steppe?!” that rage burned and roared in Castor’s voice, the poor Yol actually shrinking back and bowing even lower, cooing softly as it did. 

“Castor, please stop,” Yugiri finally pushed some force into her voice, stopping her beloved in his tracks. “Do not blame the Yol for deeming me unworthy: I have done that damage myself.” 

“Yugiri?” she didn’t know what hurt worse: his confusion or the fact that he had been ready and willing to murder this proud Yol for seeing the truth within her. 

“Please, just don’t,” hot frustrated tears streamed down her face as she turned her blurry vision upon Castor. “The Steppe deems me unworthy of fighting at your side.” 

Even now she was failing him despite all of her efforts. Even now she was just a burden upon her beloved. 

“Yugiri, I can-” 

“No,” she shook her head, partially clearing her sight. “I’ll return to Mol Illoh and guard the village and Princess Kurenai.” 

She pushed her battered, aching body to rise, shrugging off Castor’s offered hand as she got to her feet. Yugiri forced herself to bow to the Yol, scarcely hiding her surprise as the creature bowed its head in response. 

It was afraid of Castor, no doubt. Afraid of angering him further. 

“Ah, I see you’ve already made it!” Lyse’s excited, if not tired, voice reached Yugiri’s ears, burning her further with shame. “That was quite the challenge!” 

The Ala Mhigan was striding towards them, her hair a bit mussed with sweat and dirt but otherwise she was unharmed, a grin ever-present upon her lips. “I got my Yol, but I really had to work for it! That trial is no joke!” 

“You fought your way through, I take it?” Castor asked, his voice back to normal. 

“I did! The Yol will answer my call, so I’m good to go!” Lyse held up a wooden whistle, the same one that Cirinna had given them all. “Is that yours, Yugiri?” 

The bird puffed up with indignation, then shrank as it cast a wary eye in Castor’s direction. 

“You may go, my friend,” he said to it in a soft voice. “I apologize for my anger towards you. Fly free and hunt well.” 

Lyse stared, puzzled, as the Yol bowed its head one last time before pounding its wings to rise, shrieking before it vanished beyond the mountainside. 

“What? That wasn’t a-” Lyse’s eyes finally found the massive silvery Yol perched on the pillar, her mouth dropping as she took in the splendor of the magnificent beast. “By Rhalgr, she’s beautiful!” 

“Made in the Dusk Mother’s image for her Chosen,” Castor drawled. “My ‘trial’ consisted of me striding through the Mettle with each obstacle and beast leaving me alone, claiming I was already worthy of being called a warrior of the Steppe. I came to the final cavern and found it filled with Yol, all of them bowing to me.” 

He nodded to the great Yol, which bowed in response and pounded its wings to rise into the air, blocking out much of the skies with its silver-grey plumage. It shrieked, shaking the skies, then followed its lesser brother beyond the sight of the trio. 

“That one was waiting for me, waiting to bear me into the skies at my calling,” Castor continued. “My ‘trial’ was more so a rite of passage and acceptance from the Steppe: a condition I had to meet even though I had already been found worthy.” 

Unlike her. 

“Lucky!” Lyse huffed, her gaze turning to Yugiri and her mouth opening to ask that damnable question. 

“Ho! It would seem we are the last to arrive!” 

As if this humiliation couldn’t get any worse!

Gosetsu and Lord Hien were striding out of the Mettle, covered in scratches and clearly exhausted, but both were practically glowing with triumph and pride. 

“Not that I should be surprised,” Hien laughed, both he and his loyal samurai holding aloft their whistles. “Are we all ready to return to the Mol?” 

Yugiri was about to open her mouth, to inform her comrades of her failure and shame, when Castor stiffened and reached for his sword. 

“Incoming: a large party of at least half a dozen,” he growled right as the sound of rustling robes and footsteps reached Yugiri’s ears. 

Indeed, a party of Auri warriors approached the group, wearing Oroniri yellow while some wore green. All were armed, and all looked understandably nervous as they strode forward. 

“You! Yea, you who have conquered Bardam’s Mettle!” the Oronir who spoke was the same one who’d protested Castor’s status as Chosen back in Reunion. “The khagan, His Most Radiant Brother Magnai demands that you come to the Dawn Throne to pay tribute, as is the law of the Steppe!” 

Hostility and anger still radiated from Castor but it abated slightly. “Is that so? And does he demand that we all go with you now rather than leaving for Mol Illoh?” 

The Oronir nodded slowly. “He does: his orders were to bring you to the Dawn Throne if you succeed or to flay you if you failed.” 

The piercing gaze of the entire Oroniri party settled upon Yugiri as they readied their weapons. 

“And that one needs to die for being deemed unworthy by the Steppe.” 

A blade of silver ripped through the air above the Au Ra, tearing the feathers from their caps and stopping each warrior dead in their tracks. 

“Harm Yugiri and I will tear you all apart,” Castor’s voice radiated menace and death, black petals rising from the shadows of the warriors. “Is that clear?” 

The Au Ra all but dropped their weapons, eyes wide as they scrambled to escape the icy kiss of those black petals. 

“S-she can live! She can live!” the imperious Oronir yelped. “Please! Release us!” 

Castor’s rage abated and the petals vanished, the Auri warriors clustering together and staring at their shadows in poorly concealed fear. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Castor rumbled, the menace in his voice still rippling from each word he spoke. “Then lead us to the Dawn Throne.” 

“Wait, Yugiri was-”

“I’ll be at Mol Illoh,” Yugiri snapped, ignoring Lyse’s pained look at the interruption. “Good luck to all of you.” 

She sprinted off as quickly as her legs could take her, hot shame following her every step of the way. 

Unworthy.

Parasite. 

Weak. 

Did she even have a place here after all of her failures? 

Castor lost sight of Yugiri quicker than he would have liked, the rage still smoldering within his breast as he attempted to push down the desire to raze the Dawn Throne to the ground. 

The Oronir and their green-clad companions were almost sprinting away from him, headed in the direction of the massive bowl-like structure bearing the name of the Dawn Throne. He could feel it calling to him, yearning for his presence. 

Nhaama and Azim were being deathly silent regarding the Mettle claiming Yugiri was unworthy of being a warrior of the Steppe, but Castor wasn’t going to let them off easy this time. Not where Yugiri was concerned. 

She was doing one hell of a job in concealing her bitterness: Castor couldn’t even feel the faintest hint of it on his end of their bond, but he had seen the frustrated tears coursing down her cheeks.

There was going to be hell to pay for hurting her. All it came down to was who was going to be the one paying. 

The base of the Dawn Throne was surrounded by a deep lake, with one lone bridge of stone leading to the doors at the bottom of the structure, which was being guarded by a yellow-clad Oroniri spearman. 

The spearman was wide-eyed as Castor stormed towards him on the heels of the escort, the poor Oronir barely getting the stone doors open in time for the group of Au Ra to stampede up the stairs. 

Castor emerged from atop the bowl of the Dawn Throne, finding a grassy plateau upon which the Oronir and this other tribe were encamped. Tents were erected around a stone keep rising from the very center, yellow and green banners fluttering all over the place. 

Two tribes, that much was apparent from the greeting party. The escort scattered to melt into the Au Ra roaming about, some lounging on blankets around cookfires, some gathered to watch wrestling and some tending to weaponry. 

The imperious Oronir vanished into the entrance of the keep, no doubt where the actual Dawn Throne was housed, and eyes from all over the plateau came to rest upon Castor. Then came the whispers. 

“Is that him?” 

“The Chosen of the Sun?”

“The son of Azim and Nhaama?” 

He fought down the urge to grimace at that last one, feeling the deities themselves recoiling at the sentence as well. Castor strode forward, tracing the steps of the imperious Oronir towards the keep.

Children and adults alike watched him with wide eyes, their whispers following every step he made. 

“He’s massive!”

“Even taller and broader than the Radiant Brother!” 

“Is he going to fight with us?”

“No, the Mol have claimed him.” 

“Those little sheep?”

Castor ignored the voices and strode past guardsmen struggling to control their trembles at his passing, entering the keep through a pair of grand doors. A short corridor awaited, with doors branching off to other places inside the keep. 

Unimportant. 

Then at last came the throne room, the seat of Azim’s power radiating warmth unlike the tall, broad Xaela who was seated upon it. Yellow eyes burned into Castor as he approached, dark hair with yellow highlights teased into a spiky mane. 

“So, this is the child of the Sun and the Moon,” the haughty voice suited this man, Castor decided.

“Their Chosen, not their child,” he corrected, lifting his hands and displaying the palms to what he assumed was the Radiant Brother Magnai.

The sun sigil blazed upon his left while Nhaama’s moon shone upon his right, Magnai’s eyes widening as he took in the spectacle. 

“It is as you claim, and you have emerged from Bardam’s Mettle with a Yol made for you from the Dusk Mother’s own bosom,” a wicked gleam was shining within Magnai’s eyes. “A pity you chose to fight for the Mol. The Sun will show you no mercy in the Naadam, Chosen or no.” 

“You demanded my presence to pay tribute to the Oronir,” Castor grunted, letting the sigils fade away as he folded his arms. “What would you have us do?” 

Magnai’s eyes hardened, but there was a glimmer of amusement and respect in those burning sun-yellow irises as a cold smile formed upon his lips. “Patience. Tribute is demanded by all newborn warriors of the Steppe, your companions included.” 

Figured. Castor shrugged and said nothing, standing like a statue until several footsteps from outside heralded the arrival of his allies. 

“Oh, there you are!” Lyse immediately took a place at his side, glancing at the green-garbed warrior standing off to the side, an eyepatch over one of his shining irises. 

“We are all here,” Castor grunted before Hien could speak. “Now, what is this tribute you would demand of us?” 

 Magnai scowled, a malevolent aura radiating from his now-enraged features. “Do not forget your place, Chosen.” 

A pathetic attempt that may frighten those weaker, but Castor wasn’t cowed in the slightest. 

He glared back at Magnai, sun-gold irises meeting bright yellow. 

“Heh, I can feel Father Azim’s power inside of you,” Magnai’s lips curled into an impressed smile. “You are vibrant, unyielding and as strong as the Sun, yet as cold and commanding as the Moon.”

With that done, Magnai began assigning random tasks to the group: Lyse was to milk sheep; Hien was to move supplies with the Buduga-the second tribe; Gosetsu was to aid in repairs of weapons and armor; and Castor was to gather swordgrass from the cistern surrounding the Throne’s base. 

Castor led the group outside, feeling Magnai’s eyes and smirk burning into the back of his head with every step he took. He stopped them between the keep gates and the wall that surrounded it. 

“Well, it appears we have our tasks, do we not?” Hien spoke up, perhaps seeking the chance to assert some control over the situation since Castor had likely hijacked his role in the proceedings. “Let us see what we can learn about the Oronir: after the Nadaam, they are going to be our allies once this is all over, after all.” 

“Agreed,” Castor nodded. “I... apologize if I’ve been imposing my will upon you, Lord Hien. It was not my intention to undermine you.” 

The young lord briefly stepped back in surprise before collecting himself with a cheerful grin and a smile. “All is forgiven, my friend! If anything, there is much I could learn from watching you take charge!”

“No, there isn’t,” Castor shook his head, noting the Doman’s surprise. “You are to be a king, not a general like me. The road that you walk is different than the one I do.” 

“What makes you say that?” Lyse frowned, placing her hands on her hips. “I will get Yugiri if I have to!” 

Castor grinned at that remark, felt the emptiness coming from Yugiri’s end of their bond. Even Kurenai was strangely silent. 

“He is a king, a leader, someone who rules with his heart and the hearts of his people. I am a killer, one whose road has been paved in blood. Any lessons I have to teach are unworthy of a man such as he,” Castor nodded to the lordling. “We have duties to fulfill, do we not? Shall we get to it?” 

He gave them no chance to respond, striding out of the keep and towards the edges of the plateau while curious Oronir watched him. He peered over the bowl, down at the still blue waters far below. 

It wasn’t seawater, but Leviathan’s gift was no less potent for it: The Lord of the Whorl’s power worked best in saltwater.

Castor leaped off, the surprised shouts of Oronir and his friends alike trailing after him as he plummeted towards the waters.

The pond welcomed him, clear and blue-green as the grasses swaying on the bed. His body was swaddled in the cool expanse, beams of sunlight filtering through the surface and giving him a clear view of the fauna swaying upon the rocks. 

Castor glided forward on Leviathan’s power, cradled within the water and carried about within its grasp. The eikon pressed its boundaries, attempted to squeeze him in its serpentine coils. 

Retribution was swift and brutal: Castor’s will and rage tearing into the Lord of the Whorl’s prison and shredding the eikon until it reeled back, screeching for mercy. 

Castor released the eikon and felt the coils relax, returning his focus to the task at hand. 

He found the grass Magnai described easily enough: taking the sword-like blades in bundles before stuffing them into his aetherial inventory pouch. 

Castor looked around at the expanse of the pool, floating in the eerie, peaceful silence. There was no war, no violence down here. Just... silence and peace. Emptiness. 

“Castor!” Yugiri’s voice erupted from her side of the bond, filled with panic. 

The peace was broken: Castor could feel her presence nearby, from up above in the Dawn Throne. He erupted from the pond in seconds, riding a torrent of water up to the top of the dome. 

He slammed onto the grass, startling Oroniri and Buduga tribals as he stormed towards where Yugiri’s presence was resonating.

“Done already?” an Oroniri guardsman attempted to speak to him but Castor ignored him, stampeding into the keep. 

How the hell did she get here without him sensing her? 

“The law of the Steppe is final,” Magnai’s voice sent blades up Castor’s nerves, spiking the hot rage churning within his heart. “All who fail Bardam’s Mettle must die.” 

 _“He’s lying,”_  Azim’s voice hissed.  _“The judgement for failing the Mettle is not death. Stop that fool before he murders my daughter in my name!”_  

Castor threw open the doors to the throne room, startling the Au Ra assembled within. 

Yugiri was on her knees, her face set into a furious snarl as she glared at the axe-wielding Magnai towering over her. 

“You return already?” Magnai smirked, his next words cut off as Castor slammed a foot into his gut and sent him sprawling onto the ground.

His great axe, made of an earthen metal and lined with golden lines and eerily similar to the weapons Castor had crafted out of Titan’s essence, clattered against the floor, the Oronir guards immediately going for their weapons. 

“Unless you want to die, sheathe your weapons,” Castor stood over protectively over the bound shinobi, drawing upon Azim to erect a circle of sunlight around his beloved and himself. 

Rage screamed at him to splatter the Oronir against the walls, to kill and destroy. 

RIP THEM APART!

Castor growled, pushed the rage down. 

“You dare defy the Sun?” Magnai rose, his face livid as he brushed his arm off. “You defy the law of the Steppe?” 

“Death is not the law of the Steppe, Magnai,” Castor growled. “Don’t make your own judgement Father Azim’s.” 

“You dare-”

Castor closed his fingers around Magnai’s throat, feeling his trachea underneath the metal covering his palm. “ _You_  dared to try to execute Yugiri. Be thankful I do not kill you and turn this place into a mausoleum.” 

 Magnai’s dead sun eyes met Castor’s pure sun gold, both sides burning with rage as the Chosen and the Most Radiant Brother struggled against the other’s strength. Well, Magnai struggled in vain against Castor’s inhuman power, his nostrils flaring as he greedily inhaled around the hand crushing his throat. 

“Release me,” Magnai’s throat forced the words out. “Girls... will live.” 

Girls? Oh, hells no. 

Castor dropped him, the Most Radiant Brother slumping unceremoniously to the ground. “Girls? Where is Kurenai?” 

“She’s outside,” Yugiri’s voice filled his voice. “Cut the gag!”

Gag? 

Castor returned his attention to Yugiri, found a cloth stuffed into her mouth. He reached down and yanked it out, tearing off the ropes binding her wrists with his other hand. Yugiri rose immediately, her hands going for the empty space where her daggers would have rested upon her hips. 

“He had warriors waiting for me before Mol Illoh,” the shinobi hissed, rage and shame still burning from her side of the bond. “They’d apparently gone to get Kurenai since she is a Chosen of Azim and bring her to Magnai.” 

“The daughter of Azim is beautiful and ethereal, but she is of the Sun, not the Moon,” Magnai wheezed, his breathing hard and labored. “She is not the Nhaama I seek.” 

“If you have harmed either her or Yugiri...” Castor reached for the sword on his waist, the rage burning, screaming, turning the world red. 

Such a fitting hue of death...

“Castor!” Kurenai’s voice made him freeze, turning to see the Ruby Princess dashing towards him. 

The girl slammed into him, wrapping her arms around him as much as she could and burying her face into his torso.

“I’m so sorry! I was watching the sheep herd when the Oronir came for me. I tried to contact you, but... I couldn’t.” 

Yugiri winced. “That was my fault... I’d momentarily severed our bond. I... I didn’t...” 

That explained why Castor didn’t feel anything from either of them. 

“Here’s your damn grass,” Castor pulled out the bundles, roots and all, and tossed them unceremoniously at the closer Oronir. 

“Such insolence!” several of the yellow-garbed warriors drew their weapons, bloody murder on their scaled faces. 

“You kidnapped two of my most important companions,” Castor growled, letting black petals rise from his shadow and flicker around his body. Ice ran through his veins as Odin’s power surged forth, dark and cold and unrelenting. “I walked in to you attempting to murder Yugiri, so of course I’m not going to treat you well.” 

“Fond of them, are you?” Magnai smirked, a deadly gleam in his eyes. “They belong to the Sun, so if you’d like them released, then you will obey us until your tribute is paid.” 

“They are children of the Sun, not the property of the Oronir,” Castor spat back. “I am humoring your authority because the law of the Steppe demands it, but these two are where I draw the line.” 

“We Oronir are of the Sun, so why should our authority be any different? We serve Azim’s will upon the Steppe!” Magnai snarled.

The Oroniri warriors were inching closer, war-hardened bodies ready to launch at Castor and the two Raen at his side. 

This farce has gone on long enough. 

Castor could feel the Dawn Throne’s power, feel the radiance calling to him, reaching out to its Chosen. It wanted his touch, needed it to be complete. 

Castor extended a hand towards the throne, calling upon the power of his benefactors stored within. Golden light shone from the seat, lining Castor’s veins with the same radiance. Kurenai followed his example, extending a hand and drawing upon Azim’s presence. She, too, began to shine with golden radiance, her ruby eyes pulsing with solar energy. 

Goldlen light erupted from the duo, smacking the weapons from the Oronir with a blinding flash. 

“You are not Azim’s Chosen, unlike the two of us,” Kurenai intoned, her voice strong and commanding. “Do not try to harm us again while we are here.” 

Solar power filled Castor, tapping slightly into the well of energy that resided within the Dawn Throne. Giving him a taste of what would await fully bonding with his benefactors. 

Oh, it was intoxicating... made his head swim in a manner not at all unpleasant. 

Footsteps pounded the floor, heading towards them, followed by Lyse’s startled cry. 

“Yugiri? Kurenai? What are you two doing here?” 

“Magnai captured them and tried to execute Yugiri,” Castor answered. “I gave him a reason not to.” 

“Lady Yugiri and I will return to Mol Illoh,” Kurenai nodded to the glowering Magnai. “The faithful and most Radiant Brother has offered to lend us an escort to ensure that we are not harmed upon our trek.” 

An amused smirk tugged on the Oronir’s lips, his yellow highlighted hair swaying as a chuckle shook him. “You are brave, little girl. So be it: none will say that we of the Sun do not protect Azim’s Chosen daughter.” 

Magnai’s gaze rose to Castor, shining with a grudging respect. “As for you, Chosen of the Sun and the Moon: you have proven yourself a champion of Azim. There will be one more task and then you will be free to rejoin the Mol.” 

“And what task could yet remain?” Hien spoke up this time, all eyes falling upon him. “I struggle to think of any other way we could be of further use to the great and illustrious Sun.” 

Magnai’s eyes hardened, his face almost glowing with rage as he glared at the Doman. “Do not make mockery of us, Doman.”

“And our final task is?” Castor stood between the two men, redirecting Magnai’s attention. 

The Most Radiant Brother scowled, glancing back at Hien before deciding that the Doman lord wasn’t worth it. “Two people will reccoinoiter the Dotharl camp, to the south. Find what their plans for the Nadaam are and get back here. Your friends will be held here to ensure your obedience.” 

Castor scowled, glancing at Yugiri and Kurenai. 

“Those two can leave, under escort, as promised,” Magnai assured him, standing tall and straight-backed once again, broad shoulders stretching the leather of his armor. “The others will remain as hostages.” 

His yellow eyes turned to the trio of newborn Steppe warriors, a scowl lingering on Hien. “I will take the red woman. While she is not my Nhaama, my sisters tell me that you did well in milking our sheep; the beasts have taking a liking to you.” 

“We of the Buduga have no need of women,” the green-garbed Au Ra stepped forward. “And the old warrior is no use to us. We will take the Doman fire-tongue.” 

“So they are to be slaves should Gosetsu and I fail?” Castor shrugged, noting how Hien’s face had fallen slightly once he was chosen to remain. “Fine. Where can we find the Dotharl?” 

“Go south, where the grasses turn to sand,” Magnai retrieved his axe and leaned it upon the wall beside his throne. “There, you will find the Undying Ones.” 

He studied the intricate throne and the furs lining it, slowly turning and lowering himself upon it as if concerned Castor and Kurenai’s contact with it had made it volatile. 

Castor grunted. “Very well. Gosetsu: let’s go.” 

The old samurai nodded grimly. “Aye! The sooner we take measure of these Undying Ones, the sooner we can return to Lord Hien and the others!” 

Optimistic, eh? Someone had to be. 

Castor turned his back on the Dawn Throne and walked away, the weight of his allies’ lives once again riding upon his shoulders.


	28. The Undying Ones

Gosetsu’s instincts were on full alert with every step he took by the Legate’s side, metal clinking from armor and weapons alike.  

“What do you suppose these Dotharl warriors are like?” Gosetsu finally attempted to break the stiff silence between the two of them, silence that had been eating at his sanity and driving unseen nails through his skull.  

“Strong, fearless,” Castor’s deep voice answered, the boredom in his tone an eerie resonance of that monster, Zenos’s. “Proud and almost unmatched in battle.”  

Gosetsu nodded to himself. “So I have heard. When I was attempting to repair some weapons, I overheard some of the Oronir and Buduga talking about how many warriors they’d lost in their last fight with the Dotharl.”  

“And how did that go?”  

“The Dotharl fell, but not after they’d slain most of the Oronir. These Undying Ones aren’t to be taken lightly.”  

Gosetsu dared to glance at the towering Au Ra, his courage flagging as he glimpsed those cold, merciless sun-golden eyes fixed on the horizon as if seeing a future of death and ruin.  

With the sun’s golden rays almost following him and the warm Steppe breeze caressing his face, Castor van Entialpoh looked as a warlord stepping onto the field of battle.  

They continued walking roughly south-west, the distant tents of an encampment rising from where the grass did indeed turn into sand. A desert, stretching as far as the eye could see, blanketed the land behind a valley formed by the Steppe’s bordering mountains.  

“Agreed,” Castor had turned to gaze at something in the distance. 

Gosetsu followed his eyes: a sunken bowl-shaped structure similar to the Dawn Throne was rising from the ground close to the Dotharl encampment, a female form carved upon its surface.  

“The Dusk Throne,” Castor explained. “Nhaama tells me that her seat of power was swallowed up during an earthquake, yet none of the Xaela have the manpower to pull it out of the ground. She claims Azim did it to spite her.”  

Gosetsu nodded. “Shall we reconnoiter the camp from there?”  

 “No: we head straight for the Dotharl,” Castor shook his head. “There, we shall speak with whoever commands them.”  

“If you think that would be best,” Gosetsu frowned. “But aren’t we to gather information from them?” 

“Magnai knows we’re not going to find anything: he’s hoping the Dotharl will kill us once they find out we’re working with the Oronir,” Castor grunted in response. 

Outrage sparked in Gosetsu’s old chest, warming him with indignation and rage as he turned to face his companion. “And how do you know this?” 

“Xaela are easy for me to read, especially one as arrogant as Magnai,” Castor answered, his boots crunching loose stones underneath them as grass began to revert to desert sand. “And being the Chosen of the Sun and Moon does grant me a deeper understanding of the Raen and Xaela.”  

As a monk would have a deeper understanding of the kami?  

“Castor, may I ask you something?” Gosetsu was treading in dangerous ground. Oh, how he knew he was, but this was a question that demanded answers.  

“Speak.”  

“Did you and Yugiri... join together after you fought Zenos?”  

Yugiri had been acting strange ever since then, almost obsessed with Castor especially since that Ruby Princess emerged. When the two retainers were on their voyage to Kugane, Gosetsu had pressed Yugiri for every detail she could spare regarding her adventures with Castor and the Scions, and the way she’d spoken so lovingly of him had made Gosetsu think on more than one occasion that she was smitten with the Warrior.  

“Did we sleep together, is that what you are asking?” Castor’s bored voice broke Gosetsu from his internal reverie.  

It was absurd for him to ask after Yugiri’s love life, Gosetsu reminded himself, but he didn’t want his comrade, his friend, to come to harm because of this monster.  

“Yes, that is what I am asking,” Gosetsu forced the words from his lips. “If your relationship with her hinders her effectiveness as a shinobi, then our lord will be in greater danger.”  

“And you fear she will come to harm because of me being who I am,” Castor surmised, his golden eye fixing upon Gosetsu with a burning side glance.   

There was no getting past him, was there?  

“You are correct: Yugiri is a comrade and friend, and I will not have her be hurt or killed because of you and the love she bears for you,” Gosetsu was frank, not like he could do anything else. The Legate was too observant, too wise. Too dangerous. “Now, answer me.”  

“Yes, we slept together, but she wanted to,” Castor’s answer was blunt and straightforward. “You need not worry about her becoming with child in the middle of her duties: I cannot sire thanks to the eikons and the aether I’d absorbed.”  

Well... that was some consolation, wasn’t it. That removed one part of Gosetsu’s concerns, but left the other there. 

“Her love for you is undeniable,” the old samurai admitted. “But I fear she is allowing her emotions to cloud her judgement.”  

“Because she failed Bardam’s Mettle,” Castor rumbled. “Because she ran off from shame and got captured by the Oronir who, might I add, were at Mol Illoh for Kurenai.”  

“Yes,” Gosetsu nodded, his eyes being drawn to a cadre of hulking brown-furred beasts who appeared to be savaging two blue-clad Xaela. “There are people under attack there!”  

“I see them,” Castor surged forward, his katana whispering from its scabbard and glinting in the light as the legate’s long strides devoured the earth beneath him.  

Gosetsu drew his own sword and raced to keep up with his companion, but his old body wasn’t capable of matching such ungodly strength and stamina.  

Castor fell upon the beasts in a dark blur, his katana gleaming as it ripped through hide and flesh with brutal, precise swings.  

He was a demon in action, just like Zenos was. An angel of death, wreaking havoc on the battlefield.  

In a moment, just a moment, the beasts all lay dead on the ground, visceral wounds gushing blood and offal.  

One of the two Dotharl lay dead on the ground, his body gouged by claws and tusks, but the second was alive, panting heavily as he struggled to stand.  

“My thanks, wanderers,” he gasped. “The beasts came out of nowhere and surrounded us. They killed Gesir before either of us could react...”  

Castor pulled out a small crystal of sorts, his hands pulsing with green energies as he extended his fingers. The energies washed over the injured Dotharl, closing his wounds with their gentle touch.  

“There, that should take care of your wounds, but I’m afraid I can do nothing for your friend,” Castor looked back towards the camp, where a woman with white hair was approaching.  

“What is going on here?” her voice was fierce and demanding, her sharp blue eyes sizing up Gosetsu and Castor as if they were prey. “And who are you?”  

“Khatun!” the Dotharl survivor bowed his head in respect. “Gesir and I were ambushed by those beasts. Gesir fell, but these warriors rescued me.”  

“I see,” the khatun placed her hands on her hips, her fierce eyes gleaming with violence as she turned her gaze to focus on Castor. “You... I can sense great power inside of you. Who are you?”  

“I am Castor van Entialpoh, newborn warrior of the Steppe,” Castor answered, bowing his head to the khatun. “Gosetsu is one of my companions.”  

The khatun’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “You are Nhaama’s Chosen?!” 

“I am,” Castor nodded. “The Chosen of Azim and Nhaama.”  

A wicked, bloodthirsty grin formed on the khatun’s lips, a feral gleam flickering to life within her harsh blue eyes. “You have sought us out on behalf of the Dusk Mother, have you not? Rescinded your claim to ally with those weak Mol?”  

“Unfortunately not,” Castor sighed. “The false children of the Sun have demanded tribute from myself and my three companions. They hold two of ours hostage while myself and Gosetsu, here, have been ordered to reconnoiter your camp and snuff out your secrets.”  

The khatun’s eyes hardened, her feral grin vanishing almost instantly. “Those fool Oronir hold you by the law of the Steppe, do they? And what do they command you to discover?”  

“Secret stratagems and whatnot,” Castor drawled, following his words with an amused huff. “Which you do not have, I am sure. You are Dotharl: fierce, fearless warriors who revel with death.”  

The khatun’s grin returned with a vengeance. “Indeed: we are Dotharl! In death do our souls sing!”  

“I think I like you far more than I like Magnai’s ilk,” Castor chuckled. “What is your name, proud khatun of the Dotharl?”  

“Sadu: a name you’d best remember!” the khatun announced, holding a fist over her heart. “With but a wave of my hand I can set the Steppe ablaze!”  

“Skilled with destruction magics, are you?” Castor looked at the camp. “I can almost feel the strength emanating from your tribe, the fearlessness.”  

Well, they certainly seemed to be getting along.  

“Castor, I would challenge you to a fight, but I fear we shall have to wait until the Nadaam,” Sadu was grinning, her chest rising and falling as she stared up at the warrior towering above her. “Just looking at you makes my soul burn! My body trembles!”  

“Slow down, there,” Castor grunted with an amused smirk on his lips. “I will meet the Undying Ones in battle on the Nadaam.”  

Sadu actually shuddered at his words, that voracious grin never leaving as she stared at Castor. “To meet the Chosen of Nhaama... my soul yearns for that battle!”  

Gosetsu stepped forward, slowly. “So you mean to say that the Dotharl have no tricks, no secrets for the Nadaam?”  

Sadu’s harsh eyes came to him, her teeth still bared. “You are correct, outlander. Go back and tell your masters to ready themselves for battle!”  

She turned to her surviving kin, who was examining the fallen body: “And you, dispose of that carcass!”  

Something sparked in Gosetsu’s chest, memories of battlefields of the fallen rising from the depths. “Such callous disregard for her kin’s demise...”  

Sadu honed in on him immediately, her eyes hard. “You speak, Doman?”  

“Your kin fell and you treat him as if he is just an object to be disposed of!” Gosetsu pressed, the memories of his own wife and daughter flashing before him.  

Sadu’s eyes had lost all their mischievous and mirthful light and the petite khatun strode forward with an air of menace circulating about her.  

Her finger jabbed his chest. “Make no mistake, Doman: we Dotharl feel the loss of our kin just as much as any other, but we take solace in knowing that all our fallen warriors will return in time. Gesir’s seed quickens in his lover, but he will not join us for this Nadaam.”  

Join them?! What absurdity was this woman spouting?!  

“Your warriors return from death?” the question spurted from his mouth before he could stop it. 

Sadu’s eyes glinted proudly. “In death do our souls sing! If a Dotharl falls on the battlefield, his soul burns brighter than ever, and if the time comes, he is seen in the eyes of our newly born!” 

Then it clicked, incredulity filling the old Doman. “You mean to tell me that your fallen warriors and newborn babes are one and the same?! That is madness!” 

He realized his error the moment the words left his lips. 

Sadu’s eyes turned cold and ruthless, her lips pursing into a scowl as she crossed her arms before her chest.  

“Is it really madness?” Castor’s words drew the attention of all present. “Eorzeans believe something similar: that once a person dies, the aether comprising their souls is returned to the Lifestream. In time, that soul can be given new life in a new body. Granted: we aren’t so attuned to the Lifestream that we can recognize individual souls, so it appears that the Dotharl share a very close relation to that aether.” 

The legate bowed his head to Sadu, who was staring at him with poorly hidden surprise. “I thought I had sensed an unusually potent connection to the Lifestream amongst your people, but I didn’t think you were so skilled and powerful. Pray forgive me for misjudging you.”  

“So lands in the West share the same belief, but they aren’t capable of reading the eyes of the newly born to tell them who they are?” Sadu burst out laughing. “Of course they can’t! We Dotharl are alone in bearing this gift!”  

Castor chuckled, and Gosetsu took a moment to check himself before he blurted out another potentially insulting remark. 

“The body perishes, but the spirit persists in one way or another. Our flesh is merely a vessel: the memories and experiences of each person is eternal,” the legate spoke, his eyes flicking to Gosetsu.  

Ah, so that was the lesson: the way the Dotharl looked upon death. Strange... it was almost... comforting. Loved ones could be reunited, friends reborn with even closer bonds than before... 

“You speak true, Chosen,” Sadu had calmed down, but her gaze still pierced Gosetsu. “I will forgive your ignorance just this once, Doman, because Nhaama’s Chosen understands us.”  

“Forgive me,” Gosetsu muttered, bowing to the woman. 

Predictably, she ignored him and turned her focus to Castor.  

“And you, Chosen: prepare for the fight of your life! We Dotharl may be devout followers of the Dusk Mother, but even her Chosen won’t get any mercy from us on the Nadaam!” Sadu’s decree was followed by an even more wicked grin from the khatun as she held a fist over her heart a second time.  

“I look forward to it, khatun,” Castor responded with a voracious grin of his own, his golden eyes burning with aetherial light. “You and yours may be the most difficult of my opponents, so don’t expect me to hold back either.”  

Sadu cackled, the sound driving knives through Gosetsu’s skull. “Oh, those are the words that I wanted to hear! Let us meet on the battlefield and I shall show you how the souls of the Dotharl sing!”  

Sadu turned and walked back towards the camp, almost skipping as she followed her kin while he dragged Gesir’s body away.  

“Well, she seems excited,” Castor drawled, turning his back on the Dotharl encampment. “Come: we have what we need. The Radiant Brother will be satisfied.”  

Gosetsu nodded and followed in silence, his thoughts rampaging about his mind as he walked in the shadow of the legatus of the Fourteenth Legion. 

 

“And that concludes my report,” Thancred finished, his eyes cold and conflicted.  

The gathering of Alliance leaders, seated around the war table in Castrum Oriens, frowned and looked at one another, their faces set into confusion, triumph, or concern.  

“These are good fortunes, indeed,” Merlwyb was the first to speak. “Yet even a good gale can spell a ship’s doom rather than its salvation.”  

 “Agreed: even though we have the Empire all but fighting itself, who’s to say that the Emperor won’t quell the fighting and return with a vengeance?” Aymeric spoke up next.  

“This is larger than a war of succession,” Y’shtola mused, drawing the eyes of all present. “After all, there are almost a dozen legions and even more insurgencies tearing the Empire apart from within and without.”  

“Perhaps it would have been wise to have Tribune Severus or Arya here,” Kan-E suggested. “They are more informed on these issues than we, after all.”  

“I am loathe to involve the Fourteenth, but I must admit I see the merit in that proposal,” Raubahn sighed heavily from his seat at the head of the gathering.  

“They are doing a splendid job keeping Castrum Oriens and the Wall in working condition for us,” Kan-E reminded the Bull, who sighed again.  

“One more thing, actually: reports have come in that the Crown Prince is returned from Doma, bearing injuries from an attempted assassination,” Thancred caught their attention. “He spoke of his assailant only as ‘the greatest beast to ever walk this world’.”  

“Castor,” Minfilia said immediately.  

The word rippled through the room, the Alliance leaders once more sharing a surprised look.  

“So, Castor attempted to assassinate Zenos, only to fail,” Y’shtola tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Did you hear anything as to why?”  

All eyes went back to Thancred, who nodded.  

“I did: Zenos said something about a ‘parasite’ who stole Castor’s power and weakened him. A shinobi.”  

“Yugiri,” Kan-E mused. “They must have uncovered a way to share aether through their bond and use it to transfer power one way or another.”  

“Sounds like it,” Y’shtola agreed. “Given their bond and Castor’s sheer ability, it wouldn’t surprise me.”  

“So Yugiri and Castor shared power in an attempt to assassinate Zenos, only to fail because Castor splitting his strength made him too weak to fight Zenos as equals,” Raubahn grunted. “By Rhalgr, I didn’t think any man, monster, or god would be able to bring the legatus down to human limits.”  

“Even with that split power, Castor came very close to killing Zenos,” Thancred coughed to get their attention once more. “I heard that the Crown Prince is being treated for his wounds, the most notable being his nearly crushed windpipe and a gash upon his head that had apparently split his helmet in two.”  

A shudder went through the assembled; to think that Castor was capable of such violence and losing!  

“But Zenos is here, and not in Doma,” Aymeric spoke up. “That means there is little stopping the legate from liberating our eastern comrades.”  

“Aye, ‘tis most fortuitous, is it not?” Merlwyb folded her arms before her chest.  

“Only if the viceroy doesn’t move against us again; we were lucky that the Fourteenth intercepted the rear units of that force the Twelfth had sent against Castrum Oriens,” Raubahn spoke as if the words burned his tongue. “If they hadn’t come to our aid, I daresay our casualties would have been much worse.”  

Y’shtola nodded grimly: earlier in the week, the Twelfth had abruptly launched a larger offensive against Castrum Oriens, nearly overwhelming the Alliance defenders. Serpents, Flames, and Temple Knights had fought furiously in a desperate attempt to stem the tide while the Storm troops hammered the Imperial Vanguards and Reapers with cannonfire.  

Patrols from the Fourteenth had sallied out from their routes to assault the flanks of the attackers, Tribune Arya herself leading the charge from Castellum Corvi and shredding the Imperial rear.  

 The Twelfth’s commanders rightfully withdrew their forces, making a fighting retreat back behind Castellum Velodyna’s walls.  

The Alliance’s combined forces had suffered heavy losses, being caught off guard as they were, but the Twelfth had taken many casualties as well. Fourteenth casualties were minimal, and Y’shtola had seen how ferociously the legionaries had been on the battlefield.  

Castor and Severus had been drilling them in more advanced tactics and intense training, apparently, and it was showing dividends on the battlefield. The Twelfth’s renowned legionnaires could just barely match the legionaries in battle, but even the Alliance’s regulars were barely capable of matching the Imperial troops. 

As Castor had once told her: the Eorzeans were warriors, not professional soldiers like those in the Fourteenth and Twelfth legions. Granted, the Imperial conscripts weren’t on the same level as the legionnaires, but they were still a force to be reckoned with, especially those who piloted magitek weapons.  

“We recover from our losses, bolster our defenses, then continue probing the Twelfth’s lines,” Aymeric suggested, at which the others nodded.  

There had been relentless skirmishing between the Twelfth and the Alliance, neither side willing to commit itself fully to large-scale battle.  

Y’shtola doubted Zenos took the Alliance seriously enough to warrant such a clash, anyway.  

“Right, so what path would be best to take right now?” Thancred asked. 

Right back to the point, then. 

“We hold out until Castor returns to coordinate the legion alongside us?” Kan-E suggested. 

Raubahn scoffed at that: “We don’t need to wait for Castor to do everything for us, contrary to what he believes.”  

“We haven’t been able to make any headway against the Twelfth,” Merlwyb reminded him, the bitterness in her voice revealing her own dissatisfaction.  

“And any ground we have gained is because of the Fourteenth,” Y’shtola sighed, shaking her head.  

What a sorry state of affairs... the Resistance was recovering, albeit slowly, but they had been in no shape to conduct any larger campaigns as of yet. Everything had been placed upon the Alliance’s shoulders, and the weight was threatening to crush them all.  

And this was what happened when Castor wasn’t at the head of everything, plunging into the fray and shredding their enemies. It showed just how much the Alliance, the Scions, relied on him.  

A sobering lesson, indeed.  

“And the Fourteenth is occupied on all fronts with Azys Lla, the beast tribes, and their patrols. Tribune Severus did tell me that the legion is massing magitek weapons and airships to launch at the Twelfth, however, so perhaps we could work out a trade of sorts with them for use of those weapons?” Minfilia’s words drew surprised looks from all present.  

“I doubt they’ll share their toys with us, Lady Antecedent,” Aymeric said with a frown. “Especially since we lack the knowledge of machinery that they’re known for.”  

Minfilia nodded, frowning down at the table.  

“Either way: a climactic clash is looming on the horizon,” Y’shtola wasn’t a seer by any means, but that much was plain to see. “We’ll need Castor if we’re to weather this storm.”  

Stoic, grim nods followed her words.  

“We appear to have reached a conclusion to our meeting,” Raubahn rumbled, shaking his head. “We’ll meet again another time to discuss matters concerning the assault on Castellum Velodyna.”  

Nods all around, then wood scraping stone and metal as the chairs were pushed back to allow their occupants to stand.  

The anticipation and fear was heavy in the air, it didn’t take a Miqo’te to feel that, and something was going to change in a big way here, soon.  

Y’shtola silently hoped that they would all live to see the new dawn.  

 

“Ah! You’ve returned!” Cirinna was waiting for them back at Mol Illoh, the worry in her eyes fading the moment the group appeared.  

Castor nodded, glancing up at the slowly sinking sun steadily painting the skies with fire. “We are, and the Oronir are satisfied with the tribute we have given.” 

Hien chuckled at his side, the Doman Lord shaking his head. “And full glad am I for that, my friend! I disliked having to sit in a cell while you met with the Dotharl.”  

“Yugiri and Lady Kurenai returned not too long ago,” Cirinna motioned back at the camp, where the two Raen could be seen sitting by a fire with several Mol. “I was worried when the Oronir came and demanded that Lady Kurenai go with them, but I knew they weren’t going to harm her.”  

“They’re too devoted to Azim to even entertain the thought of harming his Chosen Princess,” Castor chuckled. 

Lyse watched him closely, trying to observe his body language the same way that Yugiri did. She didn’t have the shinobi’s bond with him, but Lyse wanted to do anything she could.  

“So, all that’s left to do is wait for the Nadaam, yes?” Gosetsu asked, his ordinarily bright spirits dampened ever since his return with Castor.  

Cirinna nodded, her gaze lingering on Hien before she turned it to the old samurai. “The Nadaam begins tomorrow once the sun rises.”  

Excitement crackled through Lyse’s veins, her muscles aching for use and conflict as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “Oh, I can’t wait! The sooner we get the Xaela on our side, the sooner we can liberate Doma!”  

And Ala Mhigo! 

Castor grinned at her, warmth blooming in her chest at the light glittering in his golden eyes. “Indeed, indeed. Now-” 

His pupils dilated, all the color in his grey flesh draining as he hunched over and clutched at his head, closing his eyes tightly.  

“Castor!” Lyse was the first to leap to him, reaching out to clasp some part of her beloved friend.  

Cirinna dashed forward, Lyse felt the smaller Xaela at her side as both women attempted to get ahold of Castor.  

“GeT aWaY fRoM mE!” Castor’s voice warbled with distortions, black blood seeping from his eyes as scarlet light rippled around him, bleeding from his pores.  

He fell to his knees, forcing both Lyse and Cirinna to back off before the duo lunged right back at him. 

“We need a healer!” Cirinna cried, tearing strips from her dress and desperately trying to staunch the flow of black blood. “Anyone!”  

“bAcK aWaY!” Castor groaned, the agony in his voice punching Lyse in the heart. “I...dOn’T wAnT...”  

He opened his eyes, the gold completely overtaken by black pitch.  

“Castor?” Lyse whispered, her heart lurching with alarm as Castor slammed onto the ground. “Castor!” 

The Mol swarmed them, alarmed voices drowning one another out as hands reached out to Castor.  

“Enough!” Temulun’s voice made the crowd disperse, leaving Lyse and Cirinna alone by Castor. 

The old khatun was standing in front of her yurt, her face stern and stony. “Bring him in here, now! Cirinna, you will aid me; the rest of you stay out here.”  

“Yes, Grandmother!” Cirinna nodded, calling to her tribesmen to aid her in carrying Castor.  

The tribe gathered around him once again, grunting and cursing as almost half a dozen of their strongest fought to lift Castor’s great body from the ground. The group awkwardly stumbled towards the yurt, grunting with each labored step they took as they bore Castor’s weight.  

Lyse started to follow, but a sharp gaze from Temulun made her freeze in her tracks.  

“Stay here, young one. I know you want to be with him, but I must work with him alone, save for Cirinna,” the old woman followed her tribe inside, leaving Lyse outside.  

“Kurenai! Yugiri!” An alarmed shout drew her attention to the two Raen, who had slumped onto the ground with dark energies swirling around them. 

Hien immediately rushed over, kneeling by his retainer’s side. “Yugiri! Yugiri, are you okay?!” 

Golden light flared from Kurenai’s prone form, Hien yelping as he was thrown away. The shape of a sun burned to life around the two Raen, and the dark energies faded.  

“Azim, he must be shielding them,” Hien murmured. “It appears all we can do is wait.” 

Uuuuuuugh!  

Lyse despised waiting: hated how antsy it made her, how restless her body became. She burned to fight, to stay active somehow.  

Perhaps training with the Mol warriors would take the edge off?  

Lyse nodded to herself and sought out the training grounds, where young Mol tribals were hammering away at one another with training weapons.  

“Hey! Mind if I join you?” She called out, being met by weary nods.  

With that, she threw herself into training, fighting until her muscles grew sore and her eyelids started growing heavy.  

Sweat was pouring down her face despite the cooling air, the setting sun now falling below the horizon. The other warriors were sporting bruises aplenty, but they were all grinning, sporting the rush of battle.  

“We should turn in,” one suggested. “We have a hard fight for us tomorrow.” 

Nods all around, several warriors giving weak cheers before they limped away. 

Lyse sighed, wrapping strips of cloth around her bruised knuckles before striding towards Temulun’s yurt.  

“You carry such heavy burdens on your soul, Castor van Entialpoh,” the old woman’s voice made Lyse pause in her journey.  

Castor was awake?! 

“You aren’t the first to say, and I doubt you’ll be the last,” Castor’s voice was raw, ragged.  

But not weak. It was never weak.  

“So much pain you bear within you... so many sins weighing you down,” Temulun murmured.  

“Too many to forgive in a thousand lifetimes,” Castor rumbled.  

“I wouldn’t go that far,” the khatun chided, but the warmth in her voice sounded forced.  

“You saw what I’ve done, what he showed you,” Lyse was about to rush inside, to see her friend, but Temulun’s words made her pause again.  

“The blood of beloved kin that’s on your hands? The sins perpetuated against one you care for so much?”  

Rustling came from within, followed by metal clinking. Lyse ducked behind one of the stacks of crates by the yurt, instincts demanding she hide.  

“Yes. Thank you, Temulun, for everything.” 

The old woman chuckled. “You’re very welcome, my dear Chosen. Go get some rest: you have a big day tomorrow, after all.”  

“Indeed. Sleep well, khatun,” Castor pushed his way out of the yurt, Lyse catching sight of him in his black duster as he strode out of the camp, heading eastwards.  

Lyse followed her friend, her voice lodged within her throat as she struggled to keep pace with his long strides. 

Why she couldn’t call out to him, to rush to his side like she should, she didn’t know. All she knew was that she had to follow him. She had to learn about what Temulun had been talking about.  

Blood of beloved kin? Sins perpetuated against someone he cares deeply for? Did the old woman mean Yugiri? But, Yugiri’s parents were alive, as were her siblings: Castor hadn’t harmed anyone from her family, either, so what did the khatun mean? 

Lyse followed Castor across the river and the plains, kept walking until Mol Illoh was far behind and the endless plains stretched out before both of them.  

Her muscles ached but adrenaline pulsed through her veins, warmed her body despite the pain needling her nerves. She paused only when Castor finally stopped, a cold breeze coasting over the Steppe and making his duster sway in an ominous manner.  

Like the wings of a fallen angel.  

An angel of death.  

“I know you’re there, Lyse,” his raw voice reached her ears, beckoned her forward. “How long have you been listening?”  

“I’m sorry, I was heading back to check on you when I overheard you and Temulun talking,” Lyse stepped forward, the pain in her friend’s voice drawing needles through her nerves. “Something about kin’s blood or something?”  

He stiffened. 

“What is it?” worry chilled Lyse’s mind as she stepped closer, pausing a few yalms away from Castor as some warning went off in her instincts.  

 _Get away. Run_  

 _Go._  

“Castor?” Lyse swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Are you okay? What was she talking about?”  

He didn’t answer, the air condensing around him as if he were fighting an internal war with himself.  

Lyse took one more step forward, Castor’s silence driving her instincts to scream for her to flee. She ignored them.  

“Whose kin did you shed blood from?” she asked softly. “Someone dear to you, right? But we met Yugiri’s parents and nobody else is-”  

“Lyse, there is something I have needed to tell you for a long time,” Castor’s voice was even more raw, forced like he was trying to expunge something from his throat. “A lie that I need to make right.” 

Her heart quickened, blood pounding in her ears. “W-what?” 

He turned, slowly, his face gaunt and lined with dark veins alongside scars and scales. His golden eyes were dim and haunted, flushed with agony and something Lyse never thought she’d ever see on him: fear.  

“Lyse, do you remember what I told you of the extermination force I led to Rhalgr’s Reach?”  

Why bring that up now? 

“Yes: you said that the Resistance slowed you down at Bittermill and evacuated the Reach, right?”  

Right? 

“That was a lie: we caught the cell in the process of evacuating, fighters and civilians alike running amok, desperate to escape before we arrived.”  

Wait, what? Fear and horror spiked Lyse’s mind. 

“We had our orders: leave no survivors,” Castor stared at her, his golden eyes glittering with pain and regret. “We didn’t.”  

Lyse took a step back, her stomach dropping into a pit. “Y-you... you what?”  

“As for the blood of beloved’s kin... there were two people coordinating the evacuation, two people I personally slew,” Castor inhaled deeply, his teeth grinding together as he fought to get the words out of his mouth.  

“Two people?” her body hollowed out, dread and shock icing her veins and nerves, turning her into a block of stone.  

“Those two were Yda and Curtis Hext,” words she’d never expected to hear came from her beloved friend’s lips, carried by his taut, heavy voice.  

“I killed your family.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY HERE WE GO
> 
> *On a side note, I'd like to thank the player known as Megujin Dataq, who I ran into while tanking the Burn. I never expected anyone to recognize Castor, and you talking to me made my day XD Thanks a lot, my friend! I hope I didn't spell your name wrong, either. And I'd like to thank everyone who reads this story and the ones who also take the time to comment: you guys are all awesome and I love reading what you think of my work here. Stay awesome, peeps!*


	29. Battle for The Steppe

There, he’d finally done it; finally said the words. Finally unburdened his soul from that terrible, crushing weight. 

Only to replace it with another. 

“I killed your family.” 

Lyse took a step back, her eyes wide with shock, her mouth agape and her body trembling as she struggled to wrap her mind around what he had just said. 

“W-what?” her voice was a tiny, weak thing, a pathetic squeak. “W... what are y-you...”

“Those cairns in the Reach are for all those who we slaughtered, built by those who came after the massacre and found their kin piled upon the ground,” Castor shook his head slowly, the bitter, burning memories flashing before his eyes. “Built for your father and your sister, both dead by my hands. Yda nearly killed me, you know: I got lucky when I caught her off guard, but I often wonder what the world would have become if I’d allowed her to finish the job.” 

Her eyes were so empty... so betrayed. His heart shattered looking upon them, no amount of love or anything else capable of repairing the rift that had now opened between them. 

So it should be: he was a monster; a vile, murderous beast that left nothing but destruction and ruin in his wake; left naught but pain, despair, and suffering for all those he touched. 

“Castor...” she was whimpering, trembling and looking as if she was about to be sick. “Why? Why would... why would you...” 

The poor woman fell to her knees, tears falling from her eyes and streaking her cheeks.

“Yda... father...” 

Then she rose on unsteady legs, her fists trembling as she clenched them at her side. Her gaze rose to him, those empty eyes burning with betrayal and unfettered rage. 

“CASTOR!” her scream cracked and she lunged, a red blur. 

Castor’s head jerked as a fist slammed into his cheek, the impact barely registering with his nerves. 

Lyse bounced back, her breathing heavy and erratic as she crouched into a battle-ready stance, eyes blazing. She lunged, slamming a muscled leg into Castor’s side before ducking back and unleashing a flurry of blows into his gut. 

Again and again and again she struck, the blows capable of shattering a lesser man’s bones and utterly crushing his body not even making Castor flinch despite their ferocity. 

Her screams were heart-shattering, slowly devolving into wretched sobs as her attacks began to slow. 

Finally, she fell to her knees, gasping and spluttering as her body was wracked with her sobs. 

“Why?” she finally croaked through her sniffles and coughs as she tried to recollect herself. “Why?”

“I had my orders, and it was either I died or they did,” Castor knew the words were hollow, meaningless. 

Nothing would justify murdering her family. 

“I’ve carried the weight of those sins with me ever since, and when I first met you... I knew right away you were the Lyse that Yda had spoken of in her final moments,” Castor shook his head. “I would gladly give you my life as penance for lying to you, for betraying you, but I cannot die just yet. Let the rest of the world judge me, break me down just as Myste is now.” 

The wind whispered through the plains, warning of oncoming company. It wasn’t Yugiri: he would have sensed her or Kurenai by now. 

To his surprise, it was Cirinna who emerged from the hills, her gait hesitant and slow despite the steady progress she was making towards the Eorzeans. 

“Oh!” the Mol youth’s face was flustered and almost panicked as she stepped closer, her eyes flitting everywhere but Castor. “Um, am I, um, interrupting something?” 

Castor shook his head: he’d said what needed to be said. All that was left was for Lyse to find it in herself to deal with this information on her own. 

“No, was there something you needed?” Castor glanced at Lyse, who was struggling mightily to collect herself. 

His heart went out to her: she was still his beloved friend, after all. 

Cirinna nodded slowly, wringing her apparel with her hands and nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Castor could almost feel the anxiety radiating from the girl, the coming embarrassment. 

“Cirinna?” 

She swallowed, her heart racing within her chest and her breathing heavy and her eyes roaming on everything but him. 

“I... um... I...” 

Apparently she was tongue tied. How adorable. 

“You okay?” Castor frowned at her, sensing something amiss with her. 

Cirinna inhaled deeply, clenching her hands at her side and closing her eyes tightly as if she were bracing herself for something. 

“Castor, please sire my children!” she finally blurted out, her face turning a shade similar to her hair. 

Uh... what?

Castor took a step back, bafflement filling his mind. “What the hells, Cirinna? I thought you’d be saying something like this to Hien, not me.” 

The poor girl’s face pinkened further, her breathing heavy as she balled her dress into her fists. “It is the will of the gods! They want me to receive your seed and further the Mol with a bloodline blessed by them!” 

Seriously? 

“I’m sorry, but no,” Castor shook his head, silently giving himself a reminder to lecture Azim and Nhaama about this later. 

Cirinna balked, finally meeting his gaze with wide eyes. “Am... am I not desirable to you?! I can change! L-look!” 

She shifted her shoulders, dropping her dress to leave her bare in her underclothes that hugged her chest and womanhood, although any sultry image she was hoping to project was ruined by her trembling and the way she stammered and flushed, staring at the ground.

“Cirinna, please put your clothes back on,” Castor sighed, shaking his head. “I won’t comply with your request simply because it is physically impossible for me to sire children.” 

Her eyes snapped back up to him at that, wide with shock. “Truly?” 

“Yes, and I wouldn’t do it even if I could,” Castor crouched and picked up her dress, the fabric rustling as he held it out to her. “If I ever sleep with someone, it’d be because both of us are willing to, not because of orders from on high.” 

Cirinna snatched the dress from him and threw it onto herself, hugging her body as she shyly looked back up at him. “F-forgive me...” 

“Nonsense: it is I who should apologize for Azim and Nhaama asking you to do this,” Castor shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to demean yourself in such a manner.” 

The poor girl gave him a shy, embarrassed yet grateful smile. “T-thank you, Castor. I’ll, um, head back to the camp.” 

“Wait,” Castor nodded to the despondent Lyse. “Could you... take her with you? I don’t think she’d want me helping her back.” 

Cirinna frowned at that, an unspoken question in her eyes, but she quickly nodded. “Certainly!”

The Mol youth strode over to Lyse and draped the girl’s arm around her shoulders, Lyse limply complying as she was led away. 

That was... unexpected, to say the least, but he had to focus on what lay ahead. 

That bastard Myste stepped in and tried to flush him with abyssal power, which his Darkside all too happily added its power to in an attempt to take control, again. The dark energies had poured from him, pounding his mind with memories and agony until he’d collapsed, his body unable to handle it any further.

He didn’t remember anything else that happened after, save for Myste threatening to reveal his sins against Lyse to her in an attempt to make him atone for some small measure of them. 

And then he’d woken up, Temulun and Cirinna standing over him. 

Castor gazed at the dark horizon in front of him, feeling the cool breeze caressing him as night began to claw through the skies. The Nadaam was tomorrow, and it would be time for him to claim what rightfully was his. 

It was a good thing he had excellent timing, no? Arriving on the Steppe just in time for the Nadaam. 

But, first...

“Azim, Nhaama: we need to have a little chat...” 

 _“We messed up big time, didn’t we?”_  

_“Yes, yes we did.”_

Hien awoke to the sound of the camp rising around him, the tent muggy and making his straw-filled pillow cling to his cheek as he lifted his head. The furs covering his body fell away as he rose, his stomach growling and reminding him of his own bodily functions. 

“You are awake, my lord?” as expected, Yugiri was watching him from the corner of the yurt, even though nobody else was supposed to be in it. “I trust you slept well?” 

“As well as can be,” Hien admitted, shaking his head. “Anything happen?” 

Yugiri’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Castor awoke some time before dusk, then left the camp. I wanted to go after him, but I didn’t have the strength to move... Lady Kurenai is faring better as well, and was equally concerned for him. He hasn’t returned.” 

“Did anyone go after Castor?” Hien frowned: this was indeed troublesome.

“Lyse did almost immediately, then Cirinna followed shortly after,” Yugiri nodded. “The two women came back some time later, Cirinna supporting Lyse, but neither of them have spoken about what happened.” 

“Strange,” Lyse needing support from Cirinna... did they get attacked?

“Hien? Are you awake?” Cirinna’s eager voice drew his attention to the yurt’s entrance, where Hien could see firelight casting her silhouette against the flap. “We have a scarce few hours left before the Nadaam begins! We must eat!”

 Right. Warriors must be well fed on the eve of battle! 

Hien rose, his stiff muscles protesting as he stretched and his sleep-addled mind slowly beginning to clear. All the while, Yugiri’s eyes never left him. It was almost nice to have her hawking over him again. 

“I’ll be there in a moment!” he called to Cirinna, who was still standing outside. 

“Right!” she hesitated before moving away, Hien turning to see Yugiri hiding a small smile.

“What?”

“Nothing, my lord,” she shook her head, but her smile never faded. 

Hien ignored whatever it was that she was finding humorous and strode out into the brisk night, the chill air making his fine hairs stand on end. 

The camp was alive with warriors and others moving about, sharpening weapons, repairing clothes and armor, and devouring meat stews that Cirinna and some of the other noncombatants were cooking off. 

The others were already waiting for him: Gosetsu and Kurenai were sitting on some rugs, chatting while they ate, while Lyse was sitting in silence at their side, picking at her own food. 

“Well met, friends!” Hien strode over to his companions, who looked up at his approach. “Are we all ready for battle?” 

“A samurai is always ready!” Gosetsu laughed, then shoveled more stew into his mouth. 

Kurenai giggled at his side, although her eyes were filled with weariness. “So you’ve said, Sir Gosetsu. I wish you all good luck in the-”

Her voice died out the moment a dark shadow entered the camp, golden hair almost glowing with solar power. 

“Sir Castor!” Cirinna called out to him, her smile radiant as she held out an earthenware bowl of stew. “Come eat!” 

The girl was certainly fond of him, wasn’t she? 

The legate’s eyes were cold, more like the moon than the sun despite their golden hue, and he shook his head as he strode towards the entrance of the camp. His gaze lingered on Lyse before he turned away, facing the Steppe, and folded his arms before settling into a silent vigil. 

Hien could feel the power radiating from him: feel the sheer strength making the air around the legate tremble. Anyone who came against him was going to be in for a nasty surprise! 

“I guess he’s not hungry?” Cirinna frowned, worry in her eyes as she studied the legate. 

Hien strode over and took the bowl she was still holding. “I’ll take this. Thank you, Cirinna!” 

Her cheeks flushed from embarrassment but she nodded. “Of course, Hien! Eat quickly: sunrise isn’t too far away!” 

Right, sunrise: when the soil bearers would scatter the sacred earth and start the Nadaam. Then the real fight would begin. 

He ate heartily, the warmth of the meat sinking into his bones and invigorating his addled senses. The air became sharper, colors clearer, and Hien could swear he felt as if a faint vacuum was drawing him in Castor’s direction. 

A sign from the kami, perhaps? 

Warmth emboldening him, Hien strode to step at the legate’s side, a passing glance from the towering warrior sending shivers up his spine. 

“Lord Hien,” his voice was strong, steady, commanding. “Sleep well?” 

“I did,” Hien nodded, offering a winning smile. “And you, my friend?” 

Castor chuckled and returned his gaze to the Steppe. “Somewhat: had to spend a good portion of the night dealing with Azim and Nhaama. Settled some issues they’d created and some I had.” 

“Oh?” Hien asked, hoping Castor would elaborate, but the legate said nothing. 

After some silence, Hien made another attempt: “Lyse and Cirinna went with you, did they not?” 

Castor grunted.

“Did something happen? Lyse did return being helped by Cirinna, after all.” 

“An issue between us, regarding my past,” Castor answered, his voice softening. “That’s all I’ll say about it. Ready yourself for battle: when the sun rises, the soil will be scattered, and the Nadaam will begin.” 

Hien nodded and strode back to the campfire his friends sat around, Kurenai setting her empty bowl down and rising to take his place at Castor’s side. The petite princess wrapped her tiny hand into Castor’s own, speaking softly to him as his gaze shifted to her. 

Lyse didn’t even look at the legate, setting her own full bowl aside and resting her head upon her knees. Whatever history had been unearthed between had certainly been unpleasant, but Hien felt he shouldn’t pry in her affairs. 

Gosetsu rose from his seat, stretching his muscles. “My lord, perhaps we should train to loosen ourselves before the Nadaam!” 

Indeed, there were already several Mol warriors sparring with one another or repairing their weapons, fear and concern on their ashen faces as they prepared for the bloodbath to come. 

“Right! Let us begin!” the two samurai took up positions and drew their swords, the steel resting heavy in Hien’s hands. 

Steel clashed and rang as they dueled: feinting, parrying, testing one another to gauge their strength and skill until Cirinna came to stop them. 

“It’s time,” she said solemnly, her attractive face set into a stoic expression. 

“We can do this!” a roar from the nearby Mol warriors made Hien jump.

A gaggle of the youths were standing off to the side, Castor before them, each warrior lifting their weapons and cheering with newfound energy. 

Castor strode back to where he’d been standing before, Hien and Gosetsu hurrying forward to meet him.

In the distance, the sun was slowly peeking over the horizon, golden rays slowly illuminating the world. 

Perhaps Azim would show them some favor? 

The air was slowly beginning to warm, making Hien sigh with relief as the chill of the night was chased away. 

Temulun was waiting for them, standing silent as she gazed out upon the Steppe. 

“It will begin soon,” she informed them. “The moment the sun clears the horizon, the soil will be scattered and the ovoo will form. You must get there quickly and claim it before any of the other tribes can!” 

“Acknowledged,” Castor’s voice had a dangerous edge to it, and Hien briefly entertained the idea of the legate single-handedly taking down every tribe that challenged him, beating back all foes while claiming the ovoo. 

Hien snorted softly and shook his head: that was absurd! There’s no way he was that powerful, right? Even if he did fight gods for a living... perhaps it would be best to give him space once battle was joined... 

“Mother of the Dusk, watch over us and allow us to claim victory for the Mol!” Cirinna announced, her fellows cheering. 

Lyse stepped up at their side, straightening her gloves as she looked up at Castor.

“Lyse...” he murmured, but she punched his arm. 

“We’ll talk later, okay? For now, we have a Nadaam to win!” she barked, the sternness in her voice and gaze making Hien shudder. 

He almost felt sorry for the legate. 

Castor chuckled. “Very well. Once we begin, let me take the lead. Focus on aiding our Mol allies and protecting our flanks.” 

“You’ll handle the rest alone?” Hien frowned. 

Castor nodded, the absolute certainty in the gesture dispelling any doubts he’d held. 

“None will stand in my way.” 

It was an agonizing wait, the tension rising and filling the air until it choked everything until, finally, the sun rose fully into the sky. 

“And it begins,” Temulun lifted an arm and pointed off in the distance, where a pillar of golden light had appeared. 

“Let’s do this!” Castor and party lifted their whistles to their mouths and let the sharp notes fill the air. 

The Yol came almost immediately, streaking towards their partners. 

Wind buffeted the group as the great birds swooped down, Hien reaching out and heaving himself upon the back of his own mount. The plumage was soft and warm beneath him, powerful muscles contracting as the Yol rose into the skies behind Castor’s own brilliant mount. 

The party rode for only a short time before Hien realized the skies were nearly empty all across the Steppe, even near the Dawn Throne. 

Then an arrow whizzed by his head, narrowly missing, and Hien spotted scores of Xaela already engaging one another on the plains. Tribes mingled and clashed as weapons glittered in the rising sun, those on horseback circling around the many skirmishes as they pressed for the ovoo. And then he saw the archers all aiming skywards, loosing more arrows at the Yol.

“Descend and dismount!” Castor shouted over the wind and the hissing of the arrows. “We’re sitting ducks up here!”

Hien urged his mount down, his gaze spotting several downed Yols lying in heaps upon the earth, feathered with shafts.

Well, that explained that. The Yol banked, swerving and gracefully avoiding arrows, diving towards the earth and swiftly depositing their riders. Hien leaped off his mount the moment the ground was close enough, his legs jarring with the impact and his hand already freeing his blade from its scabbard. 

Cirinna and the other Mol warriors spread out to form the flanks of the party while Castor immediately strode forward at their head, his katana flashing silver in his grasp. 

“Let’s go!” Hien bellowed, admitting that perhaps he was a little too fond of battle cries as the rest of the party dashed to keep up with the legate. 

“Stop them!”

“Kill them all!” 

Xaela bearing Buduga and Oronir colors immediately swarmed towards the group, several already bloody as the savage gleam of war shone from their eyes. 

“Keep moving!” Castor’s orders echoed across the battlefield even as Xaela fought and died all over the Steppe, voices and clashing steel filling the air. 

Hien gathered his muscles, readying himself to launch into battle when the legatus raised his blade. 

A dozen Oronir made a beeline right for him while the others advanced on the Mol flanks, but Castor was already moving. In a blur of silver, the dark warrior’s katana flashed out with blinding speed, a line of scarlet trailing the weapon. 

The Oronir fell, gasping and groaning in agony as their bodies were carved into, the sheer brutality of the display making their allies hesitate. 

Castor swung again towards one side, lifting his left hand and extending a palm towards the opposite side. Silver light erupted from the blade, slamming into the green Buduga and throwing them onto the ground while bright bolts of magic spewed from Castor’s fingers and plowed through the warriors on the other flank. 

“Keep moving,” Castor ordered, and the Mol pushed onwards towards that distant golden pillar. 

By the kami, this man was a monster! 

Hien swallowed a lump that formed in his throat: perhaps that idea he’d had earlier of Castor single-handedly taking down every tribe on the Steppe wasn’t too farfetched after all. 

Cirinna and the Mol warriors raced behind Castor, occasionally driving off a tribal that drew too close, but luckily the Xaela were too busy fighting each other to take much notice of the group plowing directly towards the ovoo.

Those who attempted to attack them directly were met with more of Castor’s sheer power, blades of silver or dark magicks reducing all comers to groaning, writhing heaps. 

He wasn’t killing them even though there were scores of Xaela tearing each other to pieces all around them. Hien could see so many colors lying on the lifeless lumps upon the grasses, weapons and banners scattered all over as tribals fought and died. 

They were getting closer to Reunion, perhaps somewhere in between the trading post and the Dawn Throne, when the Mol crested a hill and found the ovoo: a golden-brown circle of light shining upon the earth, a symbol Hien couldn’t recognize burning in the very center of it. 

And surrounding the ovoo were scores of Xaela warriors, most notably the Oronir, Buduga, and Dotharl, tearing apart everything that dared come close to them. 

The Steppe was covered in bodies, drinking deep of the blood of the tribes as men and women alike fought like mad beasts around the ovoo. 

“We rush in and take on all comers!” Lyse declared, punching her palm with her other fist. 

Hien nodded, adrenaline coursing through his veins and sending electricity through his muscles as he clenched his katana tightly. 

So much blood shed so quickly... these Xaela were fearsome warriors, indeed! Hien almost pitied the Imperials. 

“No: you all maintain our presence upon this hill, but stay away from the ovoo,” Castor was looking around at the carnage unfolding upon the Steppe with distaste. “I want to put an end to this before too many are slaughtered in this contest.” 

“You want us to distract the other tribes by making it appear we have claimed some higher ground?” Hien guessed, trying to remember his lessons on tactics. 

“Yes,” Castor nodded approvingly, his keen gaze taking in the battlefield in but a glance. “They haven’t seen us yet: I’ll make a press to see if I can claim the ovoo without being noticed, but I don’t see Magnai or Sadu. They’ll be here shortly.” 

The Radiant Brother and the destructive khatun of the Dotharl... apparently there was some bad blood between them: Hien had tried to ask an Oroniri warrior about the khatun while he was in jail with Lyse, but the warrior had spat at him to not mention the name again, especially not in front of Magnai. 

“Right! We’ll hold this position!” Cirinna declared, pivoting and taking aim at a Xaela warrior who’d been charging towards her comrades.

Her fingers released the bowstring, a harsh snap sending the projectile right into the assailant’s chest. He fell, but the attack had garnered attention from other tribals who immediately began surging towards the hill. 

Hien scowled but took a position overlooking the bloodbath surrounding the ovoo, nodding to Castor. “Go! We’ll handle this!” 

The legate nodded and strode towards the carnage, his black duster billowing like fell wings in his wake. 

“Let none pass!” Gosetsu cried, parrying a spear thrust from a tribal before cutting her down with a clean stroke. 

Hien braced himself as several warriors rushed towards him, Cirinna and Lyse taking up positions at his side. Cirinna was emptying her quiver with alarming speed, launching arrows this way or that in an attempt to aid her comrades while Lyse charged forward and plowed into any who survived the barrage of arrows. 

Hien leaped forward, his blade singing and his muscles drawing taut as he slashed across an Oronir’s chest and dropped him with a single blow, ducking beneath a spear and cutting its owner down. 

The Xaela pressed their attack, some breaking off to fight someone from another tribe, and Hien soon found himself backing up, desperately trying to deflect or dodge blows before something could hit him. 

The roar of battle and death filled his ears: clashing steel; hissing arrows; the screams and shouts of the combatants mingling into one wretched cacophony. 

A Dotharl warrior dashed towards him, her blue hair stained with blood and a wicked grin on her lips as she brandished a stained lance. 

“Come!” she crowed over the din, lunging.

Hien sidestepped her brutal thrust, his blade tearing into the woman’s spear just below the serrated head/ The tribal stumbled back, her eyes wide as she brandished her headless weapon. Hien slashed a second time, gouging her stomach and dropping her.

He jumped back to rejoin the line, breathing heavily as he took in the battlefield of raging Xaela. He winced as he saw another Dotharl clamp razor sharp teeth onto the throat of an Oroniri warrior and rip it open in a shower of gore, Hien instinctively clutching his own throat with his hand to ensure it was in one piece. 

The crowd thinned before him thanks to Lyse punching a Xaela, picking the dazed man up and then hurling him towards the onrushing foes. The others backed off, warily eyeing the group’s position before deciding they apparently weren’t worth it. 

Hien took the brief respite to look around, the mob of heaving, clashing bodies still splayed out around their formation. Gosetsu and the other Mol warriors were faring well in their fights, as far as he could tell, they were fighting ferociously and driving off anyone who drew too close. 

Blades rose and fell in hypnotic arcs, flashing and flaring as blood smeared silver and splashed onto the fertile earth, draining from rent flesh. 

Hien dared to look after Castor’s progress and the world seemed to stop before him. 

The legatus was wading through the debacle with scores of warriors around him falling to each swing of his blade, magics erupting from his fingers and sending bodies tumbling through the air as he carved a path to the ovoo. Several warriors attempted to shield comrades as they tried to claim the ovoo, tethering themselves to it with aetherial energy, but all who tried were quickly overwhelmed and cut down, their bodies tossed away from the sacred site by other tribes. 

It was brutal, yet somehow it fit the harsh and warlike way of the Steppe tribes. 

Castor finally managed to break through the ring of combatants surrounding the ovoo and tethered himself to the light, shrugging off dozens of attacks as warriors swarmed towards him with frantic desperation to stop him. 

Then Magnai appeared at the head of a group of Oronir and Buduga, aetherial chains extending from his hand and clamping down upon Castor’s outstretched arm tethered to the ovoo. 

“Chosen of Azim: I knew you would come, for you are also of the Steppe!” the Radiant Brother’s voice resonated throughout the battlefield. “But this day belongs to the Sun! I would be honored to fight you alone, but the Dotharl will not suffer duels this day, it seems.” 

Harsh, almost maniacal cackling followed the man’s words, preceded by a flurry of fiery explosions that ripped through the crowd. 

“Ah! There you are, Chosen of the Dusk Mother!” a petite Dotharli woman with strikingly white hair strode out of the smoke and flames as her kin poured forth around her, plunging into the fray with renewed vigor. “Out of my way, Oronir: this is the one who will make my soul sing like no other!” 

That had to be Sadu... by the kami, Hien could feel the destructive energy rolling off the woman even from this distance! 

The two rivals glared at one another even as their kinsmen plunged into battle, washing the Steppe with fresh waves of blood and death. 

Magnai released Castor- Hien doubted those chains could do anything against the legate, to tell the truth- and took his massive, earthen axe into both hands. 

“Father Azim, bear witness this day to the triumph of your children!” the Oronir bellowed, charging towards Castor. 

“Oh, no you don’t!” Sadu shrieked, her staff pulsing with aether as she ejected great orbs of fire at the Radiant Brother. 

A few Oronir attempted to shield their Brother, but their bodies crumpled the moment Sadu’s spells slammed into them, their screams making Hien wince as the warriors were immediately engulfed by flames. 

Dotharli tribals attempted to intercept Magnai, but graceful swings with his massive axe cleaved their bodies to pieces and left them almost splattered across the earth in his wake as the Radiant Brother made a beeline for Castor. 

As for the legate, he was casually swiping his blade this way and that, driving off anyone who dared to challenge him even as the bodies piled higher and the grasses turned even redder. 

Magnai reached him first, his greataxe sweeping towards Castor in a brutal, powerful overhand swing that Hien imagined could easily cleave men in half. Castor’s sword caught the massive axe on its blade, the shriek resonating through the Steppe as the weapon was stopped dead in its tracks. 

Sadu burned away the tribals surrounding her and took aim at Castor, blazing orbs of pure destruction streaking towards what appeared to be his exposed side. The legate lifted his free hand and batted the attacks aside as if he were swatting at flies, sending the fireballs into other combatants and dropping them. 

It appeared he no longer had any qualms about killing. 

The air stilled even as the fighting raged on around them, great power condensing as golden light flared to life around Castor van Entialpoh.

“This has gone on long enough,” the legate’s voice echoed through the air, through the carnage and destruction. 

He pushed Magnai back with unnerving ease and then jabbed his weapon into the earth, the visage of the full moon flaring to life above his head. Silver light erupted from where he’d stabbed the ground, expanding outwards in a massive wave of pure power that slammed everyone surrounding the ovoo to the ground. 

Hien’s muscles melted inside of him as he stared, dumbfounded, at the display of ungodly might, his mind struggling to comprehend what he had just bore witness to. 

The shockwave rolled over the Mol’s position, ignoring them while slamming into every other tribe who had been attempting to dislodge them from the high ground. 

“By the gods...” a Mol warrior whispered, blood streaming down her face from a rather nasty cut on her forehead.

Castor tethered himself to the ovoo once again, golden light pouring into his body as the confused warriors around him slowly began to push themselves up onto their arms and knees, several leaning on those they had just been fighting for support. 

“Let’s go!” Lyse called, dashing down the hill towards Castor. 

Hien immediately took off after her, hearing the rest scrambling to catch up and do the same behind him. 

Magnai was picking himself up off the ground, gasping and groaning alongside all the others as he leaned upon his axe for balance while Sadu was using her staff as an anchor to push herself up as well. 

The Mol stepped through the scores of dead, wounded, or dazed Xaela with ease, reaching the ovoo just in time to see the earthen light fully retreat into Castor’s body. 

The ovoo vanished, and then a golden ray of light erupted from Castor, shooting up into the skies before it changed to silver and faded away to nothingness. 

The legate raised his sword high, a victorious roar escaping his lips and resonating throughout the Steppe.

“We’ve won!” Cirinna broke the silence that followed with her joyful cry. “The Mol have won!” 

“The Steppe has spoken!” Sadu gasped, Hien turning to see the khatun struggling to remain upright. “Then, the khagan is...” 

Castor van Entialpoh. The khagan is Castor van Entialpoh. 

“Well done, my friend!” Hien stepped forward to congratulate the newly crowned khagan. “You were magnificent, if not terrifying!” 

Castor gave him a wry smile, amusement glittering in his golden eyes. 

“Bah! That was not what I’d been hoping for!” Sadu stormed towards Castor, limping and using her staff as a crutch even as she jabbed a finger into his gut. “My soul did not sing from that! You were far too quick!” 

“On guard, ugdan: the wind warns of men in iron,” Magnai growled, the faint shaking of the earth drawing Hien’s gaze to the southeast. 

His heart sank: a massive platoon of Imperial soldiers were marching towards the gathering of Xaela, black and golden armor glinting in the sunlight. Skirmishers and flankers had already spread out and began engaging tribals who had begun filtering towards the ovoo, wondering what had happened, black steel meeting nomad weapons. A gargantuan magitek weapon stomped forward on insectoid legs, the sigil of the Empire crowning its front. 

In their lead was a large, burly Roegadyn in green armor, his freckled face twisting into a sneer as he approached. 

“I thought I’d find you here, Eorzean! Dearest of all my enemies!” his guffawing voice immediately got on Hien’s nerves for some reason. “I get to kill you, and they’ll give me a shiny medal and my choice of posting! Bloody perfect, it is!” 

“Dearest of all his enemies, eh?” Hien chuckled and shook his head. “Well, congratulations.” 

Castor stepped forward, pausing halfway between the two sides: Xaela and Imperial. Hien was about to join him, to make a speech to the tribes about rallying against a common foe, but a glance at the beaten, scattered forms of the Xaela made him pause.

Even Sadu and Magnai, the mightiest of their tribes, were barely standing, leaning on their weapons and breathing heavily as they tried to muster their strength. None save for the Mol’s group and the tribals trickling towards the battlefield were in any condition to fight. 

“I am Castor van Entialpoh, Legatus of the Fourteenth Legion!” Castor’s voice radiated from where he stood, despite the horde of black steel pointed at him. “Khagan of the Azim Steppe!” 

The Imperials shifted uncertainly, perhaps having heard rumors of the man now standing before them. 

“Stand against me, and all of you will die,” Castor’s gaze roamed over the soldiers, Hien following suit with his own eyes. 

Why were so many of them of walking around with gold paint on their helmets? 

The green Roegadyn turned back and glared at his troops. “What’re you waiting for?! Kill ‘em! Kill ‘em all!” 

“Wrong move,” Castor raised his free hand high, intense aetherial power condensing around him as the visage of the sun burned above his head. 

Golden flames erupted from the ground, encircling the Imperials and making them cluster together more tightly. The heat was stagnating! Waves washed over Hien’s body, infernal heat singeing his fine hairs and immediately drenching his body in sweat as his instincts commanded him to back away from the unnatural blaze. 

The soldiers wearing gold paint on their helmets shoved their way to the front of the formation, lining up for a standard charge meant to overwhelm an enemy with sheer numbers. A suicide tactic against Castor, really. The magitek weapon reared back, preparing guns set onto the sides of its ‘face’. 

“Kill ‘im!” The Roegadyn shrieked, unslinging a massive magitek hammer from his back. 

The gold-painted soldiers, roughly a couple dozen from what Hien could guess through the shimmering air being baked by flames, marched forward in perfect unison, weapons readied as the Roegadyn soldier led the charge. 

The magitek weapon and the rest of the platoon advanced more slowly, soldiers jostling one another for space as their flanks were pressed closer to the inferno. 

The Roegadyn streaked towards Castor with a vengeance, bellowing a bestial roar as he heaved back with his massive hammer. Castor reached up and caught the blow with his free hand, stopping the Imperial in his tracks as the brute’s body did a little hop from having his momentum halted so suddenly. 

“H-huh?” the brute stared up, dumbfounded, as Castor picked him up by the throat and threw him over the lines of advancing soldiers as if he were a rag doll. 

The Imperial bounced once, twice, throwing up clods of dirt with each impact before he slammed into the magitek weapon’s front legs. His soldiers scattered, shouting in alarm, but the gold-painted lines kept advancing. 

“What are they doing?” Lyse whispered. 

Did they actually mean to charge Castor after watching that?! 

The soldiers halted mere yalms away from the legate, staring him down through the gold painted visors. 

“So, you painted golden suns upon your helmets,” Castor drawled. “Some new brigade of legionnaires?” 

“Lord van Entialpoh: we have come to pledge our allegiance to you,” one of the closer soldiers declared, Hien’s mind and jaw dropping at the words. 

“W-what?! Traitors! Kill ‘em!” the Roegadyn roared from where he was picking himself up. 

“A wise decision, and one that I am glad to hear,” Castor nodded. “Pass by: I’ll deal with the others.” 

The soldiers sheathed their weapons en masse, then held a fist over their hearts before extending them outwards in salute. Then their line poured around Castor as the flames died out behind him, the legionnaires immediately taking up positions between the injured Xaela tribes and the Imperials who yet remained.

The flames roared back to life, once again blocking Castor off from all the others while Hien stared dumbly at the backs of the Imperial soldiers who’d just betrayed the Empire for Castor. 

“Now, allow me to take care of the rest of you!” Castor’s voice resonated through the Steppe, his sword gleaming as he sprinted forward in a black blur. 

Hien’s jaw dropped again as the legatus paused right in front of the Roegadyn, his leg snapping out and slamming into the brute. The crash of metal that followed made Hien wince as it scraped his skull, the following scream and explosion hitting him with a double whammy. 

The brute had been kicked right into the massive weapon, his armored form tearing a great hole through the machine before he was ejected from the other side and crashed into the Steppe behind the platoon. The magitek weapon crumpled in a chorus of groaning metal and sparking electronics, the legionnaires scrambling to avoid being crushed as it collapsed. 

Castor plunged into the chaos, his sword ripping silver holes through the black and gold arrayed before him and sending bodies flying. A rippling scarlet aura flared to life around him, burning with power as he waded through the soldiers, hacking and slashing and killing with every step. 

Each swing ripped through dozens of soldiers at once, shattering their weapons as they feebly tried to defend themselves. 

Somewhere to the side, a gleeful cackle pawed at Hien’s ears, turning his gaze to see the white-haired Sadu staring at the carnage unfolding before her. 

“Oh, this is what I longed to see!” she crooned, the utter joy in her voice setting off all of Hien’s self-preservation instincts. “Oh, what beauty!” 

She was utterly enamored, wasn’t she?

Hien ignored the woman and turned his gaze back to the massacre unfolding inside the flames. The rebels were positioned lower on the hill the ovoo had occupied, so Hien could see over their heads to take in every brutal detail of Castor’s slaughter. 

The remaining Imperials were desperately attempting to save themselves against the angel of death that had ripped their comrades to shreds, dozens of them falling to each swing of his burning silver blade. 

Bile rose in Hien’s throat as he looked around and realized that a score of the soldiers had thrown themselves into the golden flames trapping them, their bodies rapidly being swallowed up by Castor’s power. 

“What is he?” one of the Oronir whispered, her voice thick with shock and horror. 

“He is our khagan!” Sadu crowed, Hien daring to look at the woman again.

She was leaning on her staff, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she watched the chaos. 

Hien looked away just in time to see the golden flames die out, leaving scores of blackened corpses all around the field of death. None of the Imperials, save for the rebels, had survived, or so Hien thought until he saw the brute of a Roegadyn staring at the carnage from behind the slaughter. 

“Why?!” the enraged man was trembling, his fists clenched tightly at his side. “I had you! I had you! Why won’t you die?!” 

Castor strode menacingly towards him, his body covered in blood and gore and his silver sword leaking crimson. 

With a mewl of fear and frustration, the brute spun around and sprinted off with speed defying the heavy armor he wore, a few of the onlooking tribals half-heartedly launching arrows after him but missing. 

Castor stopped, letting the man escape. The legate-turned-khagan turned back to the large, silent crowd now staring back at him over a sea of corpses both Imperial and Xaela. 

Sadu and several of the Dotharl immediately pushed their way through the stunned rebels to stand before Castor, taking in the full extent of the slaughter around them. 

“That was glorious!” Sadu cried, but Hien could feel everything he’d eaten threatening to erupt from his throat as the smell of blood, death, and burned flesh invaded his nostrils. 

And they called this monster a hero?! Hien was no stranger to battlefields: he had borne witness to such carnage before, but that was a result of two armies tearing one another apart, not one monster shredding nearly a hundred soldiers! Alone!

“The Nadaam is ended, proud warriors of the Steppe, and those who would threaten our homes have been crushed,” Castor’s voice was strong and steady, his body pulsing with dark light before he reappeared, clean and gore-free. “As khagan, I would ask that you listen to the words of Hien and decide for yourselves what you would like to do.” 

All eyes fell upon Hien, even those of the rebels, and he cleared his throat. He told of Doma, of his homeland, of the people he’d left behind and of the oppression of the Imperials, the enemies that had dared to trespass upon the Steppe. 

“And you would have us go to your land and free your home,” Sadu surmised, not leaving Castor’s side as she pondered. “Fight your war for you.” 

“I would ask that you aid us in our fight for freedom,” Hien didn’t know why he felt the need to correct her, felt the need to establish that they were allies, not master and servant. 

Sadu’s grin turned lethal. “Oh, it matters not who we Dotharl fight! Our souls burn brightest on the battlefield, be it here or Doma!” 

“If this is the will of the Mol and their khagan, then so be it,” Magnai intoned, Hien swearing he heard a tremble in the Radiant Brother’s voice. “The Sun will abide by the laws of the Steppe. The mad udgan will win you naught: we will win you your kingdom.” 

Sadu bared her teeth at Magnai, looking as if she were about to attack him, but Castor placed a hand upon her shoulder. 

“Thank you, all of you. You fought as true warriors of the Steppe this day,” his gaze roamed over the tribals. “The Nadaam has ended, so return home: bury your dead, see to your wounded. I will take care of the bodies of the invaders and the weapon.” 

Castor let go of Sadu and turned to survey the carnage of his own making, sliding his katana back into its scabbard. 

One of the rebels stepped forward, actually trembling as he saluted the legatus. “Where would you like us, my lord?” 

“Go ahead and set up camp by one of the rivers,” Castor answered, his voice softer and gentler. “It took a great amount of courage to do what you’ve done, and I would not throw you back to the wolves. I’ll let the tribes know that you’re not to be bothered and I’ll see if the Qestir in Reunion would be willing to send you supplies in return for coin.” 

“Yes, my lord!” the man’s trembling ceased as he saluted again.

The rebels saluted before shuffling away from the carnage, warily eyeing the Xaela still lingering around the battlefield. 

“Come on, Hien: Grandmother will want to know what’s happened,” Cirinna spoke softly, her face pale and tight with fear as she tugged on his sleeve. “And we should get everyone back to the camp.” 

Right. 

“Let’s go,” Hien nodded to himself, somehow managing to keep himself composed as he and Cirinna led the Mol group away from the carnage, the stench of death trailing after them on the wind. 

Only when the battlefield was far behind them did Hien duck behind a boulder and vomit. 


	30. Aftermath

Death. 

Ruin.

Pain.

Suffering. 

Fear.

Hatred.

This was all he brought to this world. All he could ever bring. 

No joy, no happiness, no love. 

Castor looked around at the century that Yotsuyu had dispatched to kill him: almost one hundred men and women sent to the Steppe to kill what they could not. 

Thirty-two had rebelled, a sizable chunk of the force that was now camped in the shadow of the Dusk Throne, tents and torches all donated by the Qestir despite Castor offering to pay. 

Three had died in the magitek weapon: the pilot and engineers. 

Eight had died beneath the weapon, crushed beneath its weight. 

Over fifty had thrown themselves into the fires of the Sun and Ifrit, desperate to escape the massacre of the remainder, while nearly a dozen had fallen to the Xaela tribals who’d skirmished with them as they’d advanced. Perhaps those fifty had hoped to burst through the flames to the other side, ignorant to how fatal even touching the inferno would have been. 

Castor had taken the tallies himself, gathered the corpses and piled them into a great cairn before setting them ablaze. The weapon was too damaged to repair, and the materials necessary to patch the hole Grynewaht’s body had made in it were out of reach, anyhow. 

Perhaps he should have killed the brutish fool. Whatever punishment awaited him for yet another embarrassing failure was certain to be a cruel one, especially if Yotsuyu was the one doling it out. 

A quick death on the battlefield would have been a mercy. 

Castor looked up at the midday sun, the stench of death, metal, and burned flesh still lingering within his nostrils. 

Power buzzed through his veins, filled him with crackling webs of energy as the Steppe pulsed around him. He could feel every breeze, see the vibrant colors all blazing to life around him with every step he took upon the soft grass. 

It was alive, all of it, and now he could feel each bit. 

 _“We are nearly there!”_  Azim and his sister were pestering him to get to the Dawn Throne, to fully solidify their pact. 

To add the fully combined powers of the Sun and Moon to his arsenal... how many would even be able to stand against him once Zenos fell? 

Zenos... the only other living creature Castor was aware of that could ever match him. The only one who could understand this crushing loneliness, this heavy weight that forever burdened his war-weary shoulders. 

“No,” Castor shook his head, gritting his teeth. “That monster and I are alike in the ability to kill, nothing more. He has no purpose, no creed, but to fight and kill for the joy of it. A monster... but so am I, even if I do kill for a reason.” 

Even if it was a good reason, to him. 

“Heh,” the snort escaped him as he kept walking, the burning pyre spewing smoke high into the skies. 

Reasons: everyone had them. To justify fighting, killing, stealing, anything and everything in between. 

War was just a clash of reasons, of ideals; two sides, symbols, ideals, whatever, conflicting just enough for people to decide it was worth killing for. 

People will kill one another for anything and everything. 

Castor quieted the thoughts and pressed on, his gaze lingering on Mol Illoh’s distant form as the sounds of celebration were carried upon the winds. 

They had every right to celebrate: they’d won a hard battle, one that they would have lost if it weren’t for him. They’d fought well. 

Carried upon his back. 

Hot pain knifed through Castor’s skull, his fingers clutching at his head as the world flared and distorted. 

Hate... they were weak... easily broken...

Hate... all too easy... to hate... 

Why bother... with weapons? 

Hate... all you needed.

HATE. 

Castor shook his head, smashed his Darkside into submission, bit down an agonized groan as his body burned in response to it. 

KILL.

The world swam and rippled, Zenos’ mocking laughter filling his head. Castor pushed it away, kept walking.

It spoke again: Why ruin their celebration? They want heroes, not monsters. Hien and the others, not you. 

Not the demon they watched bathe in blood. 

Castor stopped, his gaze turning back to the Dawn Throne. It would be too soon to go claim it: give the Oronir some time to settle down, to lick their wounds and adjust to their loss. 

Where else could he go? 

Castor’s gaze turned past the Dawn Throne, in the direction of the rebel encampment and the great desert that lay beyond Dotharl Khaa. Perhaps he could find some sport in the sands, like the Sagolii back in Thanalan, the U tribe. 

He’d scarcely taken two steps when the winds whispered of oncoming presences, approaching from Mol Illoh. 

“Castor!” Curious Gorge and Dorgono were racing towards him, the latter’s eyes blazing with indignation while the former looked utterly mollified. 

“I see the two of you have re-emerged,” Castor nodded. “I’m glad to see you unharmed.” 

“This... idiot took too long to pass the Mettle!” Dorgono was seething despite the concerned glance she gave said idiot. “We meant to join you on the Nadaam, but...” 

“I’m sorry...” Gorge murmured, his cheeks red with shame. “Once again I just hung back while you fought.” 

Castor shrugged. “You wanted to fight, and the Mettle is challenging: I do not hold it against you. Were you injured?”

“Not seriously,” Gorge shook his head and Castor caught a glimpse of a fresh bandage on his left arm, tucked beneath the cuirass. “I can still swing my axe.” 

Enough to concern Dorgono, or perhaps the woman was just hovering over the one she’d pledged her heart to. Either way, it was enough.

“The fight is over: rest, recover,” Castor nodded back at the camp. “Go join in the celebrations: I’m going to check on the rebels, make sure they’re settling in well.” 

“Those Imperials who betrayed the Empire in favor for you?” Gorge asked, shaking his head slowly. “I’d heard as such, can’t say I’m surprised.” 

Castor gave him a dry grin. “Of course you shouldn’t be. Go on.” 

The two Warriors glanced at one another, hesitated, before nodding to Castor and striding towards Mol Illoh, Gorge’s arm brushing against Dorgono’s. 

Castor once again began his journey to the west and once again paused as another person set off his senses. 

“Castor?” it was Kurenai, this time, the Ruby Princess’s fair features set into worry as she strode towards him. “Are you okay?” 

Was he? Would he ever be?

“I’m fine, my lady,” he nodded to her, felt her concern. 

Her eyes narrowed, seeing right past the lies. “No, you aren’t. I can feel the darkness inside of you, the conflict between you and that other part of you.” 

Castor sighed, glancing around to ensure nobody else was in hearing range. “Lady Kurenai-” 

“Sit,” she ordered, gesturing at a nearby rock. 

Castor raised an eyebrow at her, but she stared fearlessly back at him, her ruby eyes cool and her lips pursed in a tight line, radiating authority. 

“Sit, now,” she repeated, the firmness of her command propelling Castor’s legs against his will. 

Damn her!

He sat down on the boulder, staring at Kurenai with thinly veiled amusement as she moved to sit on the sun-warmed stone at his side. 

Her striking features softened, her kimono rustling in the warm breeze as she reached out and placed a tiny, silken hand upon his own. 

“There have been stories circulating around the camp that you,” she hesitated for a moment, “killed a lot of people during the Nadaam. Imperials invaded and you slaughtered them all by yourself.” 

“I did,” he nodded. “The others were in no shape to fight, even if the Imperials were unseasoned conscripts, so I dealt with them alone.” 

“Conscripts?” Kurenai frowned. “How could you tell?” 

“They didn’t hold formation like seasoned legionnaires,” Castor explained, his mind going back to the moment of the battle. “And Grynewaht had to extort them into battle, shouting again and again, unlike legionnaires who are conditioned to fight without question.” 

Kurenai nodded but said nothing, waiting for him to continue. 

“They have good equipment, bit more advanced than the Western legions, but lack the experience. That’s how I was able to bottleneck them, to drive them into flames.”

“It still hurts you, doesn’t it?” Kurenai spoke softly, her small hand gently caressing his shoulder, then trailing down to his waist. “I can feel them: two wounds filled with so much darkness and hate...”

“A dragon I’d fought: Nidhogg,” Castor murmured, the pain of the Eyes still burning his flesh. “His power...”

Kurenai nodded, her features a soft map of concern as she reached up and placed a gentle, warm hand upon his cheek. “You don’t need to say any more, Castor.” 

He nodded silently, the gentle touch upon his cheek warming his bones and easing the conflict within his soul ever-so-slightly. 

“Castor, did I ever tell you about the Ruby Princess who fell into a deep sleep?” Kurenai asked after moments of comfortable silence. “The one who couldn’t awaken?”

“No.”

“Right: the people were worried since she wasn’t waking up. They feared she would die and they could do nothing,” Kurenai continued. “People went to the surface and found a man who had seen that sleep before, came up with a medicinal remedy for it. The villagers took him down to Sui-no-Sato to treat the Princess, and he was stricken by her beauty.”

She paused to collect her thoughts, her face scrunching in an adorable manner as she pondered the correct words. “He fell in love with her while he treated her, and he was the first thing she saw upon awakening. The villagers were grateful for him saving their princess, so they allowed him to visit Sui-no-Sato whenever he wished, and he called on the princess quite often to check on her. They fell in love, got married, and raised a child who was said to have little to no scales.” 

Fascinating, but what was the point of this?

“This marked the first and only time the Ruby Princess wed an outsider and bore a mixed-blood child,” Kurenai continued, her chest thundering with her racing heartbeat. “I... I can sense that you wonder where you belong, that you feel as if you have nowhere to go, so...”

“I already promised you I’d return to visit Sui-no-Sato when the war in Ala Mhigo is done with, did I not?” Castor pointed out. 

Kurenai nodded. “I do remember that. I... wanted to ask if you’d consider possibly... courting me?”

“Courting you?” Castor looked down at the girl, whose face matched her hair and eye color. “Kurenai...” 

“I... I know that you have to carry so much on your shoulders and you may feel as if you are alone...” Kurenai swallowed nervously, her heart racing faster than Castor had thought possible. “I... wanted to share my future with you, as lovers. To give you a place to call home and a family...”

Oh, the sweet young woman. 

Castor studied her, studied the red face and the red eyes that kept flicking this way and that, shyly glancing at him. 

His heart... this feeling... there was peace. No hate, no loathing, no burning, smoldering rage. Just peace.

Perhaps... he would like that? Even his twin was silent, not berating him with its sharp tongue. 

A way to escape the prying eyes of the west, of Eorzea and all who expected him to shoulder their burdens. He could go to Sui-no-Sato, to Shisui of the Violet Tides, and live with her, with Kurenai.

He could court her, marry her. 

Abandon everyone else. 

Do it. Choose something for yourself, damn it!

“Kurenai, I... I would love to, but...” he shook his head slowly, pain slowly blooming within his breast. “You know what I am; what burdens I must carry. I wouldn’t be present for as much as you’d deserve, and...”

His words caught in his throat, making him close his mouth and again shake his head. 

Kurenai’s silken hand squeezed his own again, her eyes warm and understanding. 

“I know, and that is why I’m asking you now. You’re so strong, so valorous, yet you carry so much. I want you to remember that you have a place to return to, a place with someone who loves you,” her words were becoming stronger, less hesitant. “Something to keep you here when you are drowning in your darkness, in your pain. When you feel you might lose yourself.” 

Castor exhaled, his worries expulsing from his lungs as his lips curled into a smile on their own. He could see what she meant: an anchor to keep him... himself, when he might otherwise lose himself to the rage and darkness.

Say yes, damn it! Castor! 

“You don’t deserve a monster,” the words came from his mouth before he could stop them, but Kurenai’s face didn’t change. 

“You aren’t a monster, Castor: you’re someone who’s been forced to do terrible things for a world that expects too much from one man,” the Ruby Princess said softly. “A man who bears so much self-hatred and darkness that one person, alone, should never have to carry.” 

Bitterness roiled within him, twisting his lips into a wry smile. “I have no choice but to bear it alone, Kurenai. I’m the Warrior of Twilight, hero of the entire bloody world, after all.” 

“You don’t have to be the world’s hero forever,” Kurenai’s voice was a gentle croon, her slender fingers warm against his flesh as she caressed his scarred, scaled cheek. “You could have a home, a sanctuary, with me.” 

Where’s Yugiri? 

Castor couldn’t feel her at all, only Kurenai, but there was no way in the seven hells that the shinobi wasn’t aware of what Kurenai was saying. 

“I’ll... I'll have to think on it, Kurenai,” he murmured. “I cannot give you an answer straightaway, but-”

“I know,” the Ruby Princess smiled warmly, then rose. “The offer will always be available for you, my beloved Castor.” 

“Even if you wed another?” Castor asked drily. 

Kurenai laughed, her warm lotus-scented breath sweet on the air as she drew closer to him and pressed her lips against his. 

The world sharpened all at once, the silken warmth of the Ruby Princess sending needles through Castor’s very soul as the girl pulled back, an embarrassed smile on her lips.

“D-did I do that correctly?” she stammered. “I’ve never... kissed a man before...”

“You were fine, my Princess,” Castor nodded to her, the buzzing inside his skull not unpleasant. 

“Good. And I did that because I wanted to, nothing more,” she added, a proud gleam in her ruby eyes.

“You know just what to say, huh?” Castor chuckled, raising an eyebrow as Kurenai stared at him with longing in her eyes. 

She started forward, intent on kissing him again no doubt, but Castor lifted a hand to stop her as yet another presence was made known to him. 

“Someone’s coming," he whispered to her, imposing himself protectively in front of her.

“Ah, there you are!” this one was Sadu, the vicious khatun’s face lighting up the moment she spotted Castor. “I was hoping to catch you before you went to claim the Dawn Throne!” 

Those predatory blue eyes locked onto Kurenai, the Ruby Princess tightening her grip on Castor’s duster as Sadu drew closer. 

“And who is this? A lost lamb?” Sadu’s wicked grin once again curved her lips. 

“A friend of mine,” Castor warned her, the khatun’s eyes flashing warily as she gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. 

“I wanted to speak with you!” Sadu announced, glancing at Kurenai before returning her gaze to Castor, dismissing the Ruby Princess as a concern. “How did you obtain such power? That slaughter... it stirred my soul like no other has!” 

Right: of course, Sadu would have been enamored by his fight against the Imperials. Such utter destruction.

“Years of fighting and killing godlike deities called Primals, absorbing their powers for myself using an ability called the Echo,” Castor answered her. “My strength is far enhanced beyond mortal limits because of the Echo, the blessing of Light that infuses my soul, and the power I’ve gained through slaying gods.”

“A slayer of false gods!” Sadu exhaled, her tone filled with unnatural reverence. “I can feel such power burning within your soul!” 

She reached back and unslung her staff, her teeth gleaming from a feral smile. “Fight me! Now! Make my heart and soul scream!” 

Even though she was still bearing wounds from the Nadaam? No, this was foolishness.

“You’re wounded, and I can see the weariness in your eyes behind the hunger for battle,” Castor shook his head. “Wouldn’t be a proper fight and I would not insult you by fighting you at anything less than your best.” 

Sadu scowled, despite the understanding in her eyes as she shifted her shoulder and tried to hide a wince. 

“Bah, you’re right,” the khatun sighed, relaxing and putting her staff on her back. “I’m not in the shape to fight, let alone enjoy it.”

Castor nodded, still feeling Kurenai’s body pressing into his back. “Rest, recover, see to your tribe, and we shall fight on a day you can give it your all.” 

Sadu’s grin returned with a vengeance. “It’s a deal!” 

“I look forward to it, khatun,” Castor nodded again, raising an eyebrow as Sadu shot Kurenai another predatory glare. “Do you have an issue with Lady Kurenai?” 

“She radiates power like a second sun, but on a lesser scale compared to you,” Sadu responded. “Yet, she doesn’t look like a fighter: she’s much too soft and... fragile.” 

“She isn’t,” Castor answered. 

But I am. 

Sadu saw the warning in his eyes, gave a barely discernable nod in response. 

“Very well, I suppose not all of those who share your power can be warriors,” the khatun shrugged, casting a smug sneer in the direction of the Dawn Throne. “Going to claim what’s rightfully yours, khagan?” 

Why the hell not? The Oronir are proud, but they have tasted the sting of defeat in the past. They wouldn’t be very difficult in regards for granting him what was rightfully his. 

He doubted the Mol wanted to claim residence on the Dawn Throne, so it was most likely that the Oronir and the Buduga would remain its caretakers for the time being. 

“Yes, I am,” Castor nodded, his gaze falling on the visage of Azim etched onto the front of the bowl-like plateau. 

It wasn’t a bad likeness, truth be told: just a bit... creative in regards to the horns rising from the head. Oh well. 

“I’d join you, if only to see the faces of those fool Oronir, but I don’t think they’ll let me into their little camp,” Sadu shook her head, returning her predatory gaze back to Castor. “Give that oaf a beating curtesy of me!” 

“Perhaps,” Castor drawled, Sadu cackling in response before she turned and sauntered away like an overjoyed child. 

His power really brought out that side of her, huh? 

“She’s... scary,” Kurenai murmured from her hiding place behind him. 

“I pity her enemies, but her power is no joke,” Castor nodded again, the motion almost coming without second thought. “The Imperials will be hard pressed with all of the allies we’ve gathered.” 

“And those who would rebel,” Kurenai answered, ducking around to re-enter his field of vision. “Speaking of which, I heard that one Imperial managed to escape the battle. Do you think he’ll alert this Yotsuyu to the rebellion in her army?” 

“If he even remembers it,” Castor snorted, shaking his head. “Grynewaht isn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the array, especially since he thinks he needs more soldiers and weapons to defeat me.” 

He looked over to see Kurenai staring at him, puzzled. 

“Bulbs in the array?” she questioned. “What do flowers have to do with this?” 

“Ah, it’s a magitek term from the legions,” Castor explained, which only made the Ruby Princess look more confused. “The bulb I speak of is a light that can be switched on or off.” 

“Truly? That’s similar to some of the plants that give off light in the Turquoise Trench,” Kurenai mused. “If one touches them, they light up!” 

“It’s similar,” Castor agreed, grinning as Kurenai smiled at him. 

She was so warm, so gentle, so kind and beautiful... gods, what would he do if she came to harm because of him? 

“You can return to the camp if you like,” he offered.

She shook her head, lacing her tiny, slender fingers with his own. “I’ll go with you.”

Castor nodded and began to walk towards the Dawn Throne, not needing to say how her words lightened his heart so. Nor how her very presence did the same, just as Yugiri’s did.

Yugiri... he reached out to her as they walked, tried to draw some sort of comment from his beloved shinobi, but no answer ever reached him. 

“Castor,” his own voice spoke his name as abyssal power surged from his body, pouring forth and coalescing into his twin. 

“Fray,” there was no other name he could give it, since his own was already claimed, and Darkside or Twin were not entirely correct. 

Fray was who this was, the name it had taken as it walked around in the Dark Knight’s corpse. Fray was all it could ever be, now. 

“Why?” Fray spoke in Castor’s voice, their face set into a pained expression as he spread his arms. “Why are you choosing to throw us into this endless cycle of fighting other people’s battles for them? Of bleeding and killing for those who don’t bloody care?” 

They’d been over this, time and time again.

The why of things, the answers that were all he could give aside from his blood. 

“Because I must: you know this,” Castor shook his head, drawing Kurenai closer to him. “If I were to disappear, to abandon everyone, then all the fighting I’ve already done will be for nothing should the others fail.” 

Fray growled, his fists clenching and their heart filling with rage and pain and dismay. “They will never grow if we keep babysitting them! If we win their battles for them, fighting the entire world for them, then the weak will remain weak!” 

“I know: which is why I fight here. In Ala Mhigo, the Alliance will realize how much they rely upon me and the Fourteenth: they will see how much growing they have to do if they are going to survive the coming storms,” Castor answered. “You trying to forcibly take control is only making Myste stronger, making us weaker.” 

Fray sighed, hanging his head and shaking it slowly. “I know... I thought I could make you see that we could escape here, that we could vanish and truly free ourselves from our shackles.” 

“We cannot escape our shackles, but we can make ourselves more than just a chained slave,” Castor said, the words making Fray sigh again. 

“So you claim... Castor, I’m tired of fighting you, tired of trying to make you see the truth,” Fray shook his head, absently rubbing his throat. “I cannot best you, I know that, but I was hoping... I could change your mind, make you see.” 

Fray only wanted what was best for them. That’s all Fray ever wanted. 

A better future, and now that future was standing at his side, her trembling slowing down until she stepped around Castor. 

He tried to halt her, but his muscles refused to budge. Frozen, stuck to the plains, he watched as the Ruby Princess walked up to the Darkside, to Fray, and met his gaze as he looked down at her. 

“You’re Castor’s Darkside, are you not?” she spoke. “The emotions he hides, the words he doesn’t say.” 

“I am the one who tells the truth, who isn’t constrained by the social chains the Alliance and the others would wrap around our necks,” Fray answered. “And why would you come up to me? I nearly killed you, before.” 

Kurenai nodded, gesturing for Fray to kneel. 

Like Fray would kneel: like he would obey. He knelt before none. 

Fray crouched, his faceplate level with Kurenai as she stared into his glowing scarlet eyes. 

“Because you are a part of my beloved Castor,” the Ruby Princess answered, gently tracing a hand across the black plate. “I can sense your anger, your desire to break free of everything holding you down. You believe you know best, that you will set Castor free.”

“I do know best because I’m not trying to be a bloody hero!" Fray spat in return.

“I am no hero,” Castor retorted. “I know that, accept it. I am a killer, nothing more.” 

Kurenai shot him an annoyed glare before turning back to Fray. “What should I call you? Your name?” 

“I am Castor, but perhaps it would be best if I took another name,” Fray snorted. “Call me Fray: I took the name once, don’t see the harm in doing so again.” 

As if it made any difference. 

“Fray,” Kurenai spoke the name, nodding absently as she let her gaze roam over the twin. “Why are you here?” 

“Because I’m acknowledging that I cannot face Myste on my own: the little bastard’s too strong. It’ll take both Castor and myself to handle him,” Fray answered, his bitter tone drawing warm rage up from the depths of their conjoined soul. “And... I know when I’m beaten. I can’t keep doing this, not when my truth is useless against your sheer power.” 

Fray was strong, wielding Castor’s own power, eikons and all, but Fray wasn’t able to fight without Castor. When separated, as they’d been with every fight they’d had, Fray could only draw on some of that power. Not enough to win. 

Not even near enough to win. 

“Good,” Castor nodded. “I was wondering how many fights it would take for you to realize that you couldn’t win against me.” 

Fray snorted, bitter humor glittering in those scarlet eyes of his. “Too many, it seems. We’re both as stubborn as a fat chocobo, aren’t we?” 

“Indeed,” Castor grinned at his twin, feeling the sweet release from that burning, tugging war that had been raging inside of him for so long. “So, are we going to work together to bring hell to all those who would dare to oppose us?” 

Fray sighed. “I will yield to you, but you must swear something.”

Castor had a feeling he knew what it was. “And that is?” 

Fray reached out and gently placed a gloved palm against Kurenai’s cheek, making the princess giggle at the touch, then rose to his full height. “Swear that everything you do, you do for us and the legion. That every choice we make is one that made of our own free will, rather than as the Weapon of Light. Make us something more than a slave, shackled to the Alliance.” 

Yes... more than a weapon... more than a slave.

“I find those terms acceptable,” Castor nodded. 

Fray exhaled heavily, shaking his head as he took a few steps around Kurenai to stand before Castor. Their hearts were beating in unison, their voice finally joining back together as Fray surrendered himself to the Warrior of Twilight. 

Serve

Save

Slave

Slay

Each word faded as Fray dissolved into darkness then flowed into Castor, ice pulsing through his veins as the Darkside settled itself peacefully into Castor’s soul. 

When it was done, Castor sighed and shook his head, shaking away the haze that always followed a confrontation with his other self. 

“Castor, are you okay?” Kurenai was looking up at him, worry in her ruby eyes. 

“As okay as I will ever be,” he answered honestly, slowly loosing the air from his lungs as the haze of his Darkside faded into the background. “Come on: we still have a ways to go.”

Kurenai nodded, her worry still radiating from her side of the bond. 

At least, with Fray pacified- For now, Castor, for now- that was one less concern plaguing Castor’s mind. 

The Dawn Throne loomed ahead, one of the only obstacles left in his path.


	31. Aftermath of Nadaam

So, that was it. An ending to things, as Castor was thinking. 

Kurenai looked up at her beloved, the man who commanded her heart, seeing a new peace that settled across his features with the compromise he’d made with Fray. 

His golden eyes flickered to her, warm and loving and making her heart flip within her chest. 

She longed for him, for his touch, for the soft warmth of his lips on hers...

“Kurenai, have you heard from Yugiri at all?” Castor spoke as they walked across the boundless Steppe. 

She could almost feel the wind wrapping around him, the new khagan of the Azim Steppe. The grass seemed to sway towards him everywhere he went, mammoths and other animals watching them pass by. 

“I haven’t,” Kurenai finally answered Castor, feeling his gaze upon her. “Has she not spoken to you since the Nadaam?” 

“She hasn’t.” 

Kurenai dared to reach into their bond, to see if she could find this ‘Fray’ again. He’d felt like Castor, but so much darker and angrier. 

He was the source, the wellspring, of the darkness that filled Castor, that fueled that demonic blade that still hung from his waist. 

The Abyss... those words had emanated from Fray as he’d spoken, chilled Kurenai’s soul to its very core despite Azim’s warmth. 

This is what gave Castor strength as he drew upon the Soul of the Dark Knight, the darkness, rage, and hatred that always festered within his heart. 

By the kami... it was terrifying, feeling such raw darkness radiating from one figure...

“I’m sorry if Fray scared you,” Castor spoke softly, his words almost lost to the wind. “If I scared you.”

“You could never scare me, Castor,” Kurenai answered, his words whispering through her heart. 

“You haven’t seen enough to be scared of me,” Castor said ominously, self-hatred burning from his end of their bond. “If you knew... you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.” 

“You’re not a bad man and neither are you a monster,” Kurenai reminded him. “You’re a hero who’s been asked to shoulder far too much and fight for far too long against impossible odds.” 

Those golden eyes closed as he inhaled deeply. “Perhaps. Won’t change the fear and the hate.” 

Kurenai shrugged at the words, waiting until he opened his eyes and looked down at her before she spoke again: “Well, I don’t fear or hate you, and neither does Yugiri.” 

That seemed to do it: Castor relaxed more, the darkness in his golden eyes being chased away. 

“Because you two are the only ones crazy enough to look past the monster covered in blood and reeking of death,” he murmured, a lazy grin creeping across his lips. 

“Because we care enough to do so,” Kurenai shot back, her own lips curving into a smile as Castor chuckled. 

“Indeed.” 

They kept walking in silence, catching sight of groups of Xaela who were roaming the plains, retrieving bodies for their tribes and scavenging weapons from the bloody debacle that had been the Nadaam. 

Kurenai had seen some tribals fighting in the distance, but none had gotten close enough to Mol Iloh to endanger anyone. 

The Dawn Throne loomed overhead, Father Azim’s fierce mien gazing down upon all who dared to cross the Bridge of the High Rule Warriors. The Oroniri guardsman standing at the doors went rigid the moment he saw the two Chosen approaching, his arms and face freshly bandaged. 

“Khagan!” the man stammered as he held the door open for them, the awe in his eyes making needles go up Kurenai’s nerves. 

“Thanks," Castor didn’t spare him another glance as he pushed past, Kurenai hurrying up the stairways after him. 

The duo emerged atop the plateau, where scores of wounded Oronir were being tended to by their kin. Kurenai could feel their sharp gazes piercing her and Castor, her eyes flicking to where a long line of shawl-covered bodies were lying off to the side. 

A bird’s shrill cry broke the air, drawing Kurenai’s eyes up to where a pair of magnificent Yol were descending towards the Throne, their riders balancing more bodies as their mounts landed. 

“Khagan, have you come to claim the Dawn Throne? To remove us from your home?” one of the Oronir warriors asked, a bloody bandage wrapped around her head.

“The Mol have no desire to claim the Dawn Throne,” Castor rumbled. “The Oronir and the Buduga may remain here.” 

At his words, many of the tribals relaxed, some sighing wearily as they sat heavily upon blankets. 

Castor moved on, his gaze roaming over the wounds he could see and the growing line of the dead, his lips tightly drawn. Kurenai followed him into the keep, guards saluting both of them, her fingers clutching the coarse material of his duster as they entered the domicile of the Dawn Throne, itself. 

Magnai was glowering from his seat, his axe leaning against the wall at his side and white bandages peeking out from his robes and armor as he glared at Castor. 

“Khagan, I suppose you’ve come to claim that which is yours?” the Most Radiant Brother growled, his teeth bared into a snarl despite the pride in his eyes. 

“Your people may remain here, Most Radiant Brother,” Castor said again. “The Mol have no desire to drive you from this place, but I will need you to rise and allow me to take my place there.” 

Magnai snorted, rising from his throne and glaring at Castor as a smirk played across his lips. “Very well, khagan.” 

The Most Radiant Brother stepped aside, his eyes steely as he stared at Castor, waiting. 

Castor strode towards the chair, the rough fabric of his duster being pulled from Kurenai’s fingers. She hung back, watching with a heart filled with icy worry as her beloved approached the seat of their benefactor’s power.

It was covered in furs and looked rather simple, yes, but the primordial energy radiating from it was unmistakable. 

Castor lowered himself onto it as golden light began to radiate from the throne, filling the chamber with warmth. 

_At last..._

_We are bound together!_

Azim’s familiar voice pounded Kurenai’s skull, shaking the very air. 

The splendor of golden light grew brighter and brighter, a second sun now shining from Azim’s throne and his champion. 

“Father Azim! He speaks to us!” Magnai gasped, Kurenai glancing over to see the Oronir on their knees even as they shielded their eyes. 

_My Chosen son... go forth and bring new light upon this world!_

_Go!_

Heat erupted from the throne, baking Kurenai’s flesh and cracking her lips before she thought to throw her arms up as a shield. 

And then it was gone, Kurenai blinking the spots from her eyes as she recovered from the solar flare. Castor was still seated upon the Dawn Throne, golden flames smoldering within his eyes. 

“Ah... this power...” his voice was an echo of Azim’s, rising from the seat and stretching his arms. 

A faint solar aura was rippling around him, radiating sunlight and warmth. 

“Chosen of Father Azim, we are honored to greet you,” one of the Oronir murmured, his voice almost too loud in the pregnant silence shrouding them all. 

 _And for the finishing touch!_ A female voice declared, as ancient and powerful as Azim’s own. 

Colder silver light flared to life upon Castor’s black duster, spackling it with a miniature galaxy of white dots that shone and flickered as if live stars were painted upon the black fabric. His back shone with brighter silver light, making him frown and twist his head to look at it, turning and blinding Kurenai before it faded.

On the black fabric was emblazoned with the face of a full moon, shining with silver light and pitted with craters galore, radiating a cold power. 

“Ah, Nhaama decided to mark me,” Castor muttered, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Well, so much for sneaking around.” 

He turned back to the onlookers, a golden light trailing after his eyes as they continued smoldering with solar energy. 

“How do you feel?” Kurenai asked as she approached, reaching out and touching his hand. 

The flesh was warm, but not uncomfortably so. 

“As if I was just reborn from ashes,” Castor answered, shaking his head slowly. “I feel as if I could just march into Doma Castle and burn everyone who opposes me to cinders.” 

“Please don’t do that!” Kurenai yelped, taking his great hand in both of hers. “You could get hurt!” 

“Hurt? Don’t insult him, girl!” Magnai growled from the Oroniri group. “I doubt any lesser warrior could harm him now!”

“I am flattered by your concern, my lady,” Castor’s gentle voice made her heart race and cheeks warm. 

“May we return to the Mol?” Kurenai asked, the fierce gazes of the Oronir drawing knives through her nerves. 

Castor shrugged. “I’m going to help the Oronir tend to their wounded, might go to the other tribes and do the same. The Mol sustained minor injuries but no casualties, so I’ll save them for last.”

And because he didn’t want to go back while they were celebrating, not while they might still be afraid of him. 

“Might I watch?” Kurenai asked, not wanting to be separated from him just yet.

Castor’s body shimmered with golden light before he emerged in a white and red robe with an oaken staff in his grasp. “If you’d like. Did I just shine like a miniature sun or was the change a blue light?”

“Sun,” Magnai answered immediately. 

Castor sighed. “Damn it all.” 

He strode out the door, Kurenai quickly following him to keep pace with him.

“You’re going to heal our people?” Magnai asked as he, too, followed, his dead sun gaze burning into the back of Kurenai’s head. 

“Least I could do as Khagan,” Castor answered, his voice bored and tired. “This won’t take too long.” 

The party made their way outside where a cadre of Oronir were tending to the wounds of their brothers and sisters, all eyes falling on the new khagan as he approached. 

“Who among you are bearing near-fatal wounds?” Castor asked, his gaze roaming over the bloodied Xaela. 

Several pained groans and calls went out to him immediately, his gaze honing in on one younger male who had a serrated spear head protruding from his chest. 

Castor swept over to the Xaela, robes billowing as he crouched next to the young man.

“Easy does it, warrior,” the khagan’s staff glowed as he reached out with a hand, fingers enshrouding in a green magical light. 

The two Xaela were connected by the emerald light, Castor’s calloused fingers reaching out and closing around the arrowhead. The Oronir winced and cursed, his voice turning into a relieved sigh as Castor yanked the triangular steel from his flesh along with the remains of the wooden shaft.

Tendrils of emerald light immediately slithered into the bloody hole as scarlet gushed from the wound. The Xaela’s flesh knitted together almost instantly, not even leaving a scar. 

Kurenai’s eyes widened as she watched this miracle of magical prowess before her, wonder alighting within her mind. 

Awed gasps and murmurs followed from the other Xaela, several of them immediately shuffling more of the severely wounded forward as Castor rose. 

“Keep them coming: my White magic will take care of your ailments quickly,” Castor lifted his staff, becoming awash in emerald light as his sharp eyes continued scanning the Xaela. 

Lyse stared at the distant Dawn Throne, waiting silently for another pillar of golden light to erupt from within. The Mol’s celebration had faltered at the eruption, but a brief word from Cirinna had dispelled their worries.

Apparently Castor had claimed the Dawn Throne, strengthening his bond with Azim and Nhaama.

Lyse wanted to be happy, to feel pride in knowing they would be marching to free Doma and then Ala Mhigo soon, but her chest was hollow, her heart aching. 

“Lyse?” Yugiri’s soft voice was almost lost to the chattering and cheers behind them, the shinobi seating herself on the grass by Lyse’s side. “Is everything alright? You’ve barely eaten or spoken to anyone.”

Lyse tried to smile but found her lips curving upwards only slightly, bitterly. “Truthfully, I’m not.” 

Yugiri nodded slowly, gazing off at the Dawn Throne as a heavy sigh escaped her lips. “I can say the same, my friend. But what happened between you and Castor?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me what happened between the two of you back in Namai,” Lyse countered, truthfully not expecting an answer as she locked eyes with the shinobi. 

“Very well,” Yugiri murmured, surprise jolting through Lyse. “The night we spent away from the House of the Fierce, after Zenos, we... copulated.” 

Wait, what? 

“Copulated?” Lyse racked her brain for the definition just to make sure she was remembering correctly. “You mean... you and Castor... slept together?” 

Yugiri nodded slowly, hugging her legs to her chest and resting her chin upon her knees. “It was indescribable, but I fear I planted the seeds of doubt in his mind, doubt that I was using him to feel better about my defeat at Zenos’s hands.” 

How did that even work anyway?! Lyse looked Yugiri’s small, lithe frame up and down, picturing Castor’s certain to be gigantic member attempting to enter her. How?! He was so much bigger than her!

“That’s why his Darkside showed up,” Lyse guessed, hoping her flushed cheeks weren’t too obvious as she looked away. 

“It was,” Yugiri confirmed. “It’s all my fault: my greed, my desperation and my self-loathing broke him further apart and resulted in the Mettle rejecting me. All I’ve done lately is cause him trouble...” 

“You know he doesn’t see it like that, right?” Lyse dared to look back at the Doman once her cheeks cooled, frowning at the look of utter dejection that had settled upon Yugiri’s porcelain face. “He cares too much about you to think of you as causing him trouble.” 

“But it is the truth,” Yugiri shook her head, an errant breeze making her raven-black hair sway. “And now Kurenai has shown up to take him away from me. I am not worthy of him, not anymore. Perhaps it would be best if I just let her-” 

“Yugiri, stop. You and I both know that Castor doesn’t think any less of you just because you’ve had some back luck lately. He cares too much about you!” the words gushed from Lyse’s mouth before she could stop them. “Yugiri, don’t be so hard on yourself!” 

“But I must be: if I am compromised physically or emotionally, then how could I protect my lord? Lord Hien and Castor are two of the most important men I’ve ever met and I could potentially fail them both,” Yugiri buried her face into her arms, an exhausted exhale escaping her lips. 

Lyse kept silent, the words no longer coming to her as she stared at Yugiri. 

After several minutes of silence between them, listening to the celebrations unfolding in the camp behind the duo, Yugiri lifted her head and shook it, her eyes bloodshot. 

“And what of you?” she asked softly. “What happened last night?” 

Oh, right, that...

Lyse swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, braced herself to speak even as her heart ached and split at the words that she was going to force out. 

“Um, did you hear what Temulun said to him when he awoke last night?” that was all she could muster, silently cursing herself for her cowardice as Yugiri studied her.

“I did,” the shinobi nodded slowly. “Blood of beloved’s kin, was it not?” 

“Yes.” 

“It doesn’t mean me: my family’s never been harmed by him,” Yugiri continued. “Unless she meant someone from his past in the legion, then perhaps Ysayle or you?” 

“The khatun meant me,” Lyse murmured, her throat threatening to close. “Castor once told me that he had led an extermination force to Rhalgr’s Reach when he was an Imperial soldier. He told me that they’d found nothing since the rebels had evacuated, but last night... he... he told me the truth.” 

Oh, by Rhalgr... why was it hurting so much? Why...

“The truth?” Yugiri prompted softly, her voice hesitant. 

“My older sister, Yda, and our father were the ones leading the rebel cell,” Lyse choked the words out. “Castor personally killed them.” 

Pain racked her heart, making her wince as she struggled to draw breath. 

“I... do not know what to say,” Yugiri whispered. 

“There is nothing to say,” Lyse choked out, bitter tears pooling in her eyes. “Back in the Reach after Zenos’s attack, Myste conjured a spirit of Yda. She... she spoke to Castor, thanked him, and told him she forgave him.” 

“She forgave him?” Yugiri mused. 

“Yeah. She said she was proud of me, and thankful to Castor for being so close to me,” Lyse shook her head. “Yet... how can I forgive him for this? For killing the only family I had? For lying to me about it?” 

“I do not know,” Yugiri confessed. “But I do know that Castor didn’t lie to you with any intention of hurting you. He carried that knowledge with him ever since he met you, tormenting himself with what he’d done. If I know him well enough, he had to have been burning to tell you the truth, choosing not to in order to protect you.” 

“I know,” Lyse whispered, the pain in her heart intensifying. “That just makes me feel worse about hating him.” 

“I don’t think I can hate him, either,” Yugiri said in a bitter voice. “I love the man, I truly do: my heart is incomplete without him. Yet... why can’t I bring myself to see myself the way he can? To be the person he loves as well?” 

“You’re so devoted, Yugiri,” Lyse shook her head slowly, thinking back on her clumsy attempt to kiss Castor back in the Ruby Sea.

He was still dear to her, that much was clear: they’d been through too much together to just throw that away, but the pain and hollowness in her heart drew tears to her eyes. 

Perhaps it would be best to just let him go. 

“Maybe I should just let him go,” Yugiri whispered, drawing an alarmed jolt from Lyse. “Let Kurenai have him.” 

“Yugiri...” Lyse had told Castor they’d speak later, before the Nadaam began, but now she wasn’t sure what she could say to him.

Did she forgive him for murdering her family and lying to her about it? For grinding her heart and soul into dust? 

For breaking her heart? 

Rhalgr, why did this have to be so difficult? So painful? What was she supposed to do? 

Lyse hugged her knees to her chest, ignoring how the movement made her gut twist and protest. 

“I don’t think he’ll forgive himself for what he’s done, ever,” Yugiri spoke again, her voice nearly lost to the whispering Steppe winds. “He’s seen himself as a monster for so long that that’s all he can see now.” 

“I...” what was she supposed to do, to say? 

When the man she’d loved was a monster who’d killed her family? 

“He thinks he’s like Zenos,” Yugiri kept talking, her voice absent and hollow. “Another monster given human flesh, destroying everything that stands before him.” 

Zenos?! That... that monster?! 

Monster... 

The only one in this current age who could stand against Castor on even grounds. 

“What are we going to do?” Lyse asked softly, almost choking on the words. 

Another breeze swept across the Steppe, making Yugiri’s long black hair sway behind her. Lined her beautiful porcelain face in darkness that almost made her expression vanish. 

“I do not know,” the shinobi whispered. 

Should they just wait? Try to talk it out? 

But what if she bungled up everything again? What if she said the wrong thing and hurt them all? 

“We can only try,” Lyse attempted to say something Yda would, something their father would. “Try and hope for the best, right?” 

She was trying so hard, damn it! Why did it have to be so difficult! 

Why were her prayers going unanswered? Did the gods even care about this world anymore? About her?

Lyse shook her head, sighing as more questions rampaged through her mind: a cohort of little clones of herself running around, screaming and punching each other. 

The thought made her lips curve upwards. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Yugiri sighed, her voice heavy with defeat. “The kami are cruel to mock me so, to drag me through the mud, but it is a test I must pass. I must, if I am to prove myself worthy of fighting alongside Castor.” 

The two women sat in silence as the Mol continued partying around them, the sun sinking lower and lower to the horizon, the long, exhausting day finally coming to its conclusion.

“Someone’s coming,” Yugiri finally spoke up, drawing Lyse’s attention to the shinobi. “One of the rebels.” 

After a few moments passed, the shifting of fabric and clinking of metal reaching Lyse’s ears as a black and gold Imperial uniform came into view, heading for the camp. 

“State your intentions!” Yugiri was immediately on her feet, hands going for her blades. 

The rebel raised her hands in a peaceful gesture. “I come with a message from the Legatus.” 

“Speak,” Yugiri said, her voice tight. 

“He asked me to inform you that you’ll be heading back to the House of the Fierce in the morning. He’s in Dotharl Khaa right now and is asking Sadu to dispel the barrier blocking the other entrance to Doma.

“Other entrance?” Lyse repeated, glancing at Yugiri to see if the shinobi would recognize it.

“That explains why the cave in the Valley of the Fallen Rainbow suddenly became sealed off,” Yugiri mused. “To think that the Dotharl had been responsible for it...” 

“They’re unsealing it as we speak,” the rebel nodded, her helmet swiveling back and forth between the two women. “And, uh, if I may say something off the record?” 

Off the record? Did she think they were keeping a record of this?

“Um, go ahead.”

“Very few of us actually want to be part of the Imperial army,” the rebel slowly shook her head. “I don’t know what you’ve been told or what you’ve seen, but most of us in Doma don’t even want to fight. We have to, otherwise our families... our own lives...” 

Just like Castor. 

“I understand, but if we come under attack, I will fight with every ounce of my strength,” Yugiri nodded. “You’d best return to your camp.” 

The rebel nodded. “This is war: people will die even if they do not want to fight. I’m just glad that so many of my comrades have gathered enough courage to throw off our shackles and join forces with Lord Castor. He will lead us to a better future, I’m sure of it.” 

Then she turned and walked away, her words lingering in her absence as her dark form began to wade across the Sea of Blades. 

“He will,” Yugiri whispered. “The only question I have is what will he be when that future comes?” 

A man? 

Or a monster?

What would any of them be when all the fighting finally came to an end? 


	32. A Witty Title

Castor remained in silence as twilight finally fell upon the Steppe, feeling nothing but the void that had opened up within him from expending so much magical power over the course of a single day. The power of the eikons gave him stamina and power beyond mortal limits and, coupled with the Echo, made him a force far beyond the reckoning of normal soldiers and mortals. 

At least the power imbuing him from Azim and Nhaama was still warming his body, crackling and swirling with solar and lunar energy. 

Gods were the only beings capable of challenging him now, yet why was he always so uneasy? He was a general, a legatus, a Warrior of Twilight who’d faced down indomitable foes both of men and gods. 

“Castor? You did too much again, didn’t you?” Kurenai’s voice drew him from his thoughts. 

“I did,” he admitted sheepishly, the Raen princess’s sharp gaze burning into his head.

“You need to remember that despite your incredible strength, you’re still just a man,” Kurenai skirted around him, her hands on her hips as she glared up at him. “You have limits just like the rest of us.” 

“I hit my limits harder when I’m healing,” Castor replied. “It takes more out of me to heal than it does to fight.” 

“Of course it does,” Kurenai nodded, her sharp ruby gaze immediately returning to his face. “It takes more effort to heal than to hurt, does it not?” 

That... actually made sense. 

“I suppose it does,” at least he wasn’t having to fight Fray for control, anymore.

They didn’t see eye to eye on everything, but the Darkside was no longer actively draining his attention and energy in its attempts to take power from Castor. 

“Will you tell me more of your adventures?” Kurenai asked as the duo continued their walk back to Mol Illoh. “I must admit that I’ve become fascinated with hearing your tales.” 

Castor chuckled, glancing down to see Kurenai’s eyes staring at him, wide with hope, and an adorable flush coloring her porcelain cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said that I had a weakness for that face when you made it earlier today...” 

It was so adorable! Every time he said no to that face, immeasurable guilt boiled up inside of him! That damn puppy face kicked him in the feelings, damn it all! 

“You shouldn’t have, indeed,” Kurenai replied in a dangerous purr, her lips curving in a smirk that looked far too ominous on her pristine face. 

“Even then, I can only rest when I cannot go any further. When I have no choice,” Castor shook his head, hoping his words would deflect her interest.

“Nice try,” Kurenai smirked again. “Story, please!” 

“Damn,” Castor muttered. “Alright, I’ll tell you something that hopefully won’t give you nightmares...” 

“Actually, Castor, could you tell me how you got those three horrible scars on your back? The ones that look like claw marks?” Kurenai’s words made those scars tingle in acknowledgement. 

“Garuda,” the name came from his lips without thinking. “The last of the first three eikons I’d fought and defeated, before I knew I could absorb their aether and seal them away inside of myself.” 

Kurenai nodded, silently waiting for him to continue as he searched for the right words. 

“I wasn’t nearly as strong as I am today, so my fight with Garuda was one of the toughest I’d had yet. She danced through the air as if possessed, flinging razor-sharp plumes at me before diving in close to shred me with her talons,” Castor shook his head slowly. “My heavy armor and my shield are the only reason I survived, but one of her last strikes nearly ripped my spine out. If Kan-E Senna hadn’t healed me afterwards, I don’t know if I’d be able to move.” 

“Were you okay afterwards?” Kurenai whispered, her slight hand coming to rest on his arm. 

“I had no choice but to be,” Castor murmured, the bitter rage once again warming his heart. “Three nations were looking to me for salvation, I couldn’t afford to appear weak, to seem like I was anything but a living weapon. Very few people actually cared about what I was thinking, what I was feeling, so I became accustomed to just shutting it all away.” 

“What do you feel now?” Kurenai asked softly, warm spreading through Castor’s chest. 

“Tired, hating myself for what I’ve done to the people I care for, but I have to keep pressing on,” he answered, his shoulders sagging as the weight of the world settled upon them. “I can feel the heavy weight of the expectations of entire nations that continues to press down upon me. I... I can feel my body slowly wearing down as my battles continue.” 

“End this fighting quickly and return to me,” Kurenai urged, her eyes shining with worry as she wrapped her tiny hands around his calloused boulder. “Shisui will always be open to you, as will Sui-no-Sato. You may rest here whenever you desire.” 

“Thank you, Kurenai,” Castor crouched so that they were face to face, gazing at her hypnotizing ruby irises. “You are one of the few who actually cares to hear my thoughts, to make me feel... human, rather than a weapon.” 

“You are a human, despite what others think,” the Ruby Princess retorted, her lotus-scented breath caressing his face with her words. “You have worries, concerns, fears, just like anyone else. You’re afraid of making the wrong choice, anxious that what you do will not be enough.” 

Castor’s instincts kicked in and he leaned over, nuzzling the girl’s cheek and making the porcelain flesh fluster once again. 

She was so adorable, damn it! 

“Thank you, Kurenai,” he said again, frowning at the words. “I seem to be thanking you an awful lot lately, do I not?” 

“I do not mind,” the princess smirked. “Especially since it’s you, my beloved.” 

Those words warmed his heart, that warmth then spreading through his veins. 

_Forgive me if I become sick_

Oh, shut up, Fray. I’m allowed to feel things, are I not? 

_Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean you have to make me witness every part of it._

“So, where are we off to now?” Kurenai asked. “That was the last of the tribes we were to visit, was it not?” 

“It was,” Castor nodded, his black duster billowing in his wake as a gentle wind cruised across the Steppe. 

At least the duster wasn’t as restricting as his White Mage robes. Much easier to move around in and to tolerate. 

“We’ve opened the way back into Namai from the Steppe and healed up the tribes, so all that’s left to do is to return to Mol Illoh and rest for tomorrow,” Castor answered Kurenai’s question at last, easing the stare she was giving him. “Due to our efforts, the tribes are ready to advance on Doma Castle and the Imperials on a moment’s notice. Just have to make sure we have a plan for battle.”

He shot a glare at Kurenai, her flinch making his heart wince in response. “And as for you, young lady: I am taking you right back to Sui-no-Sato.” 

“Now?” Kurenai asked, glancing at Mol Illoh. 

“No, tomorrow: I’m too damn tired now,” Castor grunted. 

Despite the power radiating through him, his muscles were leaden and heavy, his core exhausted from having expended so much White Magic. 

“Might I make it up to you?” Kurenai cooed, a mischievous light in her eyes as she smiled coyly at Castor. 

“You can make it up to me by being safe and staying in Sui-no-Sato,” Castor shut her insinuations down immediately. “I don’t want the Imperials finding out you helped me and launching an attack on your home.” 

Kurenai frowned. “Are they truly capable of such a thing?”

“They are,” Castor nodded. 

The girl fell silent, a faint haunted expression going through her eyes. 

They walked in silence over the Steppe, the wind wrapping around Castor with each step he took, his vision tinted with a faint golden hue. 

“Castor, what are you planning to do about Yugiri and Lyse?” Kurenai asked as Mol Illoh came into view, the distant mountains puncturing the skies. 

“I do not know,” he admitted. “I care very deeply for both of them, but... it isn’t fair to them for me to keep them on the sidelines like that, going back and forth between them. Lyse might not want anything to do with me anymore, however.” 

That bitterness in his heart ached and burned, reminding him of his sins, reminding him of the innocent blood he’d shed. 

“Yugiri is devoted to you, you know that,” the Ruby Princess spoke softly. “She loves you.” 

“She loves a monster, Lord Hien would be far more deserving of her affections,” Castor murmured, loathing and hatred warming his chest. “She feels her failures make her unworthy of me, when in reality it is I who is unworthy of her.” 

“Castor, you’re being far too hard on yourself,” Kurenai chided. “You’re a warrior asked to fight too much, to shoulder what no man should have to alone.” 

Castor exhaled heavily, the weight on his body releasing until the weariness was all that remained. The heavy, leaden weight was all too familiar, almost comforting to him in the way his muscles ached and throbbed. 

His lungs burned, his head swam, but his senses were as sharp as ever. Ravana and Odin fueled his war-gotten strength despite the weakness he should be feeling. 

Having the power of godlike beings to act as a reactor was certainly something he didn’t want to experience anytime soon. 

Yet... what was this nagging worry itching the back of his mind? Something drew his thoughts to Midgardsomr, to that blasted wyrm who had silenced his connection to Hydaelyn, stripped him of Her Blessing. If the Father of Dragons could strip him of that power, certainly he could do something about the eikons? 

Castor shook his head slowly, forcing the thoughts away as Ravana’s power crackled through his veins, fiery bloodlust and a shrieking yearning for battle howling through his very blood and spirit. 

Odin kept the flames in check, colder twilight power tempering the Lord of the Hive and fueling Castor’s strength. 

Truthfully, if it wasn’t for those eikons, Castor doubted he would even be able to move. 

“Castor?” Kurenai’s gentle voice entered his ears. “Are you okay?” 

“Barely, thanks to the eikons inside of me,” he admitted. 

“When we get to Mol Illoh, you will rest until we leave tomorrow,” the Ruby Princess ordered, Castor’s gaze swiveling to see her red eyes glaring at him. “You’re exhausted: I can see it in your face.” 

He scowled. “Am I truly so easy to read? I had thought I was better at hiding my expressions than that.” 

“Perhaps to others,” Kurenai reached up and caressed his arm with her tiny, lithe fingers. “But not to me.”

“I see,” Castor made a mental note to watch his emotions around the young woman, who apparently knew him better than he anticipated.

Well enough to read his expressions even when he was schooled into a steely, neutral face. 

As taught by the legion, a decade or so ago. 

“But, very well, I shall acquiesce to your demands and rest upon our return to Mol Illoh,” he spoke to Kurenai, who nodded at the words as if she’d expected them.

“Good,” she answered.

They walked in silence towards the distant settlement, distant bonfires crackling with the promise of warmth as the distant forms of the Mol danced about, their celebrations carrying on the winds. 

Good: they deserved to celebrate after their hard-won victory. He’d seen them fighting, driving back all comers with Hien and the others. They’d proven hardy warriors, true to the nature of the Xaela despite their peaceful ways. 

Perhaps by now they’d be drunk on their success or at least worn out after partying all day. Enough to not notice the blood-soaked monster striding back into their midst.

“Castor,” Kurenai warned, her voice stern. “You’re doing it again.” 

“I know,” he answered, ignoring her pointed glare.

He reached out with his senses, immediately focusing on the two familiar forms outside of the camp, watching him. 

“Ah, they waited for us,” Kurenai spoke again, her gaze once again falling upon him as he looked over at where Yugiri and Lyse were sitting, watching his approach. 

Cold concern rippled through him, followed by the bitter tinge of fear. 

Did Yugiri know of what he’d done? Of his sins against Lyse?

OF the monster he really was?

He remained silent as they approached the duo, their eyes never leaving him with each step he took.

“Yugiri... Lyse... How fares the tribe?” 

“They are wearing themselves out partying,” Lyse spoke, her voice strained as she stared at him. 

Conflict lit her eyes, rather than cold, simmering rage. What had they been talking about?

“I’ve been traveling to the tribes who’d participated in the Nadaam, healing their wounded and ensuring that any who wish to aid us in retaking Doma are ready to leave at a moment’s notice,” Castor informed them, studying their faces to gauge their reactions. 

Yugiri and Kurenai were staring at one another, having a silent conversation until the shinobi scowled and sighed, shaking her head. 

“You expended too much energy again, didn’t you?” Yugiri accused, glaring at Castor with enough strength to make him flinch from the intensity. “I can feel your exhaustion.” 

“I will be fine,” he answered.

Even Lyse’s expression twisted into a frown at those words. 

“Get. Some. Rest. Now,” Kurenai accompanied each ground word with a forceful jab to his arm, her meager strength making each jab barely noticeable. 

Lyse rose. “Castor, we need to talk.” 

Cold dread filled his head, making it swim further. 

“He needs to rest! He’s on the verge of collapse!” Kurenai protested, turning her glare to the Ala Mhigan. 

“I can manage,” He shrugged, immediately wishing he hadn’t as the world swam at the motion. “Let’s go, Lyse, but not too far.” 

“Castor,” Yugiri growled, but her voice was hesitant. 

A spark ignited in his mind as their bond snapped and hissed back to life, immediately flooding him with bitterness, self-loathing, fear, and worry that was not his own. 

Castor reached through that bond, sending over what peace and calm he could muster in an attempt to soothe his beloved friend’s mind. 

Her expression softened, the pain in her luminous eyes fading as she lifted a hand to her heart. 

“Damn you, Castor,” she whispered, lowering her gaze and shaking her head. “You know just what to do, don’t you?” 

“Yugiri, you aren’t helping!” Kurenai protested, dismay in the glare she was giving her fellow Raen. 

“We’ll make it quick,” Castor promised as Lyse pushed past him, following her in her path away from Mol Illoh. 

They walked in silence until Lyse stopped when they were certain to be out of earshot, the Ala Mhigan’s body shuddering with a heavy sigh. 

“Castor, I... I don’t know what to say,” she said after what felt to be an eternity of silence. “You lied to me, you killed my sister and my father... how am I supposed to feel anything right now aside from the desire to attack you? Even if I love you?” 

Love...

“I carry the weight of my sins upon my shoulders with every day I live,” Castor forced words to escape his lips, to break the silence that followed her declaration. “I will never forgive myself for them, but this... I would gladly give up my life if it meant undoing this calamity of my own making against you.” 

Was this how it was always going to be? Him hurting someone who had become so dear to him? 

Loving those whose lives he was most likely to destroy? 

Perhaps it would be best if he was to just cut them away, to break the chains binding them to him and to walk on the battlefields alone, with only the legion at his side. 

A god amongst men, yet a mere man amongst the gods. 

“Gods damn it, Castor, you make hating you so hard!” Lyse whined, slamming her fist against a nearby boulder and cracking its surface, scattering stone shards in every direction. “How am I to hate that you killed my family and lied to me about it when all I want to do is throw my arms around you and kiss you?!”

“That would be your emotions warring with one another: your affection from the last year or so now clashing with the indignation and betrayal of learning of my lies and sins,” Castor tried to look her in the eyes as he spoke, to face her, but his guilt drove him to stare at a tree situated behind her. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that love turned fully into hate, which I would fully deserve for what I have done.” 

Lyse wailed and continued slamming her fist into the boulder, spraying the Steppe with more stone shards as entire chunks of the boulder pried themselves loose and crashed to the ground.

Only when the poor boulder was little more than a pile of rubble did Lyse stop, her body trembling as she gulped down air. Blood was running down her clenched fist, scarlet droplets falling to the Steppe one after the other in a gentle rain. 

“Lyse, you’re bleeding,” Castor stepped closer to her, wrapping his fingers around his Soul of the White Mage and wrapping her wounds in emerald magic. 

She didn’t speak as her injuries closed and the blood was flushed from her skin, her breathing slowing to more stable levels. 

“I hate you for lying to me, but...” her voice was raw, almost cracking. 

“You need time away from me to figure out your... thoughts,” Castor suggested even though it made his heart ache. “I will leave you alone until you decide what you want.” 

And before we do something either of us will regret. 

He turned and walked away, the darkness inside of him growing ever further with each step he took from his old friend. 

Castor’s return to Mol Illoh was silent and without fanfare; Yugiri and Kurenai were talking to Cirinna and Hien, unaware that the monster had once again crept amongst the Mol. 

He slithered through the camp, dodging Xaela as they ate, drank, danced, and told stories around the fires, blissfully oblivious to his presence. 

Only when he slipped inside the yurt Temulun had given for him to use did he rest, stripping off his weapons and setting them aside. 

Dark power surged into his body as his hand held Zantetsuken within it, the eikonic weapon shimmering as he focused on Odin. 

War was all that answered to him: Odin and Ravana, two deities devoted to clashing on the battlefields. 

Zurvan was similar, but the Demon had refused to yield to Castor’s control, being forcibly sealed away with all the others. Sophia was rather indifferent, amused by his balancing act, while all the others raged and fought against him until their resistance was crushed. 

Bahamut slumbered, captured deeper in his soul than any of the other eikons, responding only when Castor drew upon his power. 

_Son of Man... heed me..._

Castor responded to the nudge given to him by Ravana, holding out his free hand and focusing on the Lord of the Hive. Fiery aether crackled to life in his hand, merging together to form one of Ravana’s earthen scimitar hilts. 

More aether flushed the weapon in a manner similar to summoning Zantetsuken’s blade as a pulsing white light erupted from the hilt, extending into a curved weapon. 

“Fascinating,” Castor mused as the Lord of the Hive’s power crackled through his arms, briefly pondering how effective fighting Zenos in Ravana’s avatar would fare. 

Three swords against four... that would be an interesting experiment. 

At least until Zenos cuts off the extra arms or something. Or all of them...

Yeah, that wouldn’t end well.

Castor shook his head and let the weapon disperse into aether before laying back on the bedroll, his sheer weight flattening the object. It was better than just laying on the ground, at least. 

With weariness deadening his body, darkness closing around him, Castor closed his eyes and allowed his body to finally shut down. 

The last thing he felt before everything faded was another warm body sidling up alongside him, slender arms draping across his torso.

There were no dreams in the void this time, the only indication of his return to the waking world being a lightening of the darkness, a rising grey in the pitch-black. 

Then came the warmth, slithering into his flesh and bones as the Sun and Moon came to life within and without. 

He pried his eyes open, staring up at the top of the yurt as his senses were slowly freed from the abyss. 

“Hmm...” a soft, contented hum drew his gaze to his right side, where Kurenai was laying next to him, her body embracing his arm. 

Her face was serene and peaceful, just as it should be, free from the war and terror of the world. She didn’t deserve to suffer such horror; her or her people. 

“Kurenai,” he crooned softly, making her grumble and stir. “Kurenai, wake up.” 

The Ruby Princess groaned and shifted, her eyelids fluttering to reveal her stunning red irises before they vanished beneath the lids once again. 

“Don’t bother me right now,” she mumbled in a slurred voice, holding his arm tighter to herself. “My husband is waiting for me to finish up here.” 

Castor raised an eyebrow, a devious idea surfacing within his mind as he leaned closer to the sleeping princess. “And who is your husband, my lady?” 

She shifted again, grumbling a bit more before her words came out clearly. “Castor van Entialpoh, of course... we’ve been together for years...” 

“My, you’ve certainly placed quite the claim on me, haven’t you?” Castor poked her with his free hand, her eyes flying open and immediately focusing on him.

“D-did I say that aloud?” she stammered, her porcelain face flushing scarlet. 

“You placed quite the claim on me, have you not?” Castor grinned, chuckling as the girl groaned and buried her face into his arm. 

“Please don’t tell anyone I said that,” she pleaded, her voice muffled by his limb. “Yugiri already wants to kill me.” 

“I heard every word,” the shinobi’s deadly voice cruised in from the entrance of the yurt, where said shinobi was standing in the shadows. “But I am not going to kill you.” 

Castor felt Yugiri’s bitterness return tenfold, her conflicted expression barely visible in the sunlight creeping through the fabric. 

“Castor, do you find me worthy?” she asked softly through their bond, her voice scratching through his mind. 

“Worthy of what?” he frowned, quickly checking to ensure that Kurenai wasn’t listening in.

She wasn’t: she was too busy bemoaning her sleep-addled claim and trying to settle her embarrassment. 

“Of you. I am already failing you, failing Lord Hien, so how can I be worthy of standing at either of your sides?” the shinobi murmured, her own self-loathing giving him a run for his money. 

No one should have to hate themselves as much as he hated himself! That was his burden to carry and his alone! 

“Hand over that hate,” he growled through the bond. “All of it. Now.” 

Yugiri’s expression hardened, stubbornness immediately crackling to life as she folded her arms before her chest. “Oh, I don’t think so. This is my burden to carry, not yours.” 

“Yugiri, if I have to force you to stop hating yourself by yanking those feelings from you, I will,” he warned, gathering his strength in preparation for launching an assault through their bond. 

The shinobi hesitated, sensing his power and already knowing that she was no match for him. “Castor...” 

In face of such devotion, her loathing faded slightly, lingering just beneath the surface. Even if others state their love, it won’t get rid of that self-hatred, that bitterness, but perhaps it could help just slightly. 

“You are human and will make mistakes, just as I am. That’s a lesson I had to learn the hard way, one that I am still learning every day,” Castor relaxed, allowing Yugiri to do the same. “Just keep protecting Hien as you always have and you will not fail. The Mettle may have rejected you, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less a shinobi or a woman.”

“I... I will try to amend my thought process,” Yugiri murmured, her gaze uncertain as she looked at him. “For you.” 

“Not just for me, my dear, but for yourself as well,” Castor glanced down at the Ruby Princess still clinging to his arm. “I’d embrace you, but this one has me hostage at the moment.” 

Yugiri smirked. “I’d say so.”

“You can stop mocking me,” Kurenai grumbled, Castor looking down again to see her ruby eyes glaring at him. 

“Might I be released?” Castor asked aloud, finally breaking the silence.

Kurenai let go of him and sat up, yawning and rubbing her sleep-addled eyes as Castor pushed his great body to stand. 

His muscles were no longer sore and the void was blessedly filled as he inhaled the crisp air slipping into the yurt from outside. 

His lungs shuddered with the cool, biting air as it filled them, sharpening his senses and jolting him awake. 

“Who else is up?” Castor looked over at Yugiri, taking a moment to admire her beauty as he studied her. 

“Most of the Mol and all the others,” the shinobi answered, a coy smile forming on her lips as she met his stare. “You were among the last to awaken.” 

She glanced at Kurenai and her expression reverted to her trained shinobi mask, betraying no emotion. 

“Get something to eat, Kurenai, and then I’ll be taking you back to Sui-no-Sato,” Castor said to the Ruby Princess, who nodded while her face set itself into a resigned expression. 

“Very well, I have troubled you enough as it is,” the girl rose and pushed her way out of the yurt, the rustling of the cloth entrance heralding the eruption of bright sunlight that flooded the abode before the covering slipped back into place. 

“Yugiri,” Castor turned to the shinobi the moment they were alone, utilizing their bond to thwart any eavesdroppers. 

“Yes?” she responded, cocking her head to the side curiously. 

“Are you feeling okay?” he could still sense her turmoil, her loathing of her own failures. 

“I... I don’t know,” she admitted, her face falling. “Lyse and I talked, but it did little to assuage this bitterness I feel.” 

Castor reached out to her and cupped her porcelain face in his hand, her scales rubbing against his flesh as she nuzzled his palm. “Do not blame yourself for what is beyond your control. You were not meant to fight in the Nadaam, so be it. But we will need you for when we retake Doma Castle and Hien will need you afterwards. I will need you no matter what.”

The shinobi’s bitter hatred of herself lessened slightly, her eyes shining with adoration as her lips curved into a small, heart-melting smile. “It means the world to me to hear those words, my beloved Castor... what do you see when you look at me? How do I fail so much and yet still merit such love from you?” 

He pushed his affection through their bond, let that warmth crackle and tie them together ever tighter. “I see a devoted, brave, strong woman who traveled far for the sake of her lord and their people. I see a woman who fearlessly faced Leviathan at my side when he emerged and who stood beside me when almost all others abandoned me.” 

He leaned over and rested his forehead against hers, letting their breath and warmth intermingle. “You are my beloved friend who stood by me when I was drowning in my darkest feelings, who faced my Darkside without hesitation and believed in me all the while fighting an enemy you couldn’t defeat. And you are the one to whom I made a promise to liberate Doma and her people, your people. I will see that promise through to the very end, for you. I trust you with my life, with my Soul, with everything I am. You still have my old Soul of the Paladin, don’t you?” 

Yugiri nodded, her hand going into her satchel and removing the dull crystal, the shield emblazoned upon the front of it grey and lifeless. A mockery of his failures, of what he’d failed to protect. 

“You never failed me,” Yugiri whispered, clutching the dead crystal. “Not once.” 

“I had hoped that the crystal might protect you, given your pure heart and desire to shield others, but it appears I was wrong,” Castor sighed, detecting barely a trace of aether within the Soul Crystal. 

“Zenos proved that having a pure heart and that protective desire aren’t enough,” Yugiri muttered, more bitterness rising within her. 

“I’m certain the crystal not being active is my own fault, not yours,” Castor shook his head. “It’s attuned to me, after all, not you. If I am not worthy, then it will not do anything for anyone else.” 

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, her flesh smooth and warm beneath his lips before he pulled away. 

“I hate that you can catch me off-guard so easily,” the shinobi complained, despite the smile curving her lips. “But... if it means that much to you, I will try to amend my view of myself. Try to see myself as you do.” 

“Good. That’s all I ask since you’re far too hard on yourself,” Castor leaned over and planted a chaste kiss on her lips before pushing his way outside. 

“Y-you sly, conniving-” Yugiri’s startled protest ended with a content sigh. “Wonderful man...” 

Castor grinned, then killed the expression as the bright sun welcomed him back into the Steppe, the morning chill sharpening his senses. The Mol were already active: cleaning, sewing, cooking, tending to horses and sheep and talking to Hien or the others. 

“Ah, Castor!” Cirinna waved to him from where she sat at Hien’s side, a warm smile on her lips. “Er, khagan! It’s wonderful to see you!” 

“Just Castor will suffice, my friend,” Castor strode over to the young woman, noting Hien’s cautious stare and the careful smile the lord placed on his lips. “Lord Hien.” 

So the Doman prince thought him a monster, did he? A demon? Someone to be feared and loathed? 

No matter. 

“How is everyone doing?” Castor asked, keeping his gaze on the Doman lord. 

“We’re doing well,” Hien answered. “Any injuries sustained in the Nadaam have mysteriously been healed and everyone is full to bursting with new energy.” 

Perhaps an aftereffect of using so much White Magic all at once?

Doesn’t matter: it was a benefit, either way. 

“I am glad to hear that. I’d expended so much magical energy healing the rest of the tribes, and I was concerned the injuries the Mol had suffered would be a hindrance to you all,” Castor could feel Yugiri behind him, could sense Kurenai approaching with a plate of eggs, dzo meat, and tough roots. 

“We can take care of ourselves!” Cirinna protested. 

“I know, but my responsibility as khagan is to watch over all the tribes, is it not?” Castor looked down at the woman. “I failed to properly check on the Mol, so that is a failure as khagan, no?” 

“You do not need to force such responsibility upon yourself, my khagan!” the Mol girl yelped. “The khagan is meant to be a guiding force, a singular figure in power whose duty it was to hold enough control to keep a semblance of order on the Steppe.” 

“To prevent the tribes from descending into lawless anarchy,” Castor mused. “I see.” 

“The tribes respect power, and power is what keeps order in this place,” Cirinna nodded, glancing over at Hien. 

The lord was shaking his head, clearly disagreeing with this philosophy, but he kept his words to himself. 

“Regardless, I am glad that everyone is healed up and well. As soon as Kurenai is finished eating, I will be taking her back to Sui-no-Sato in order to get her out of harm’s way for the upcoming battles,” Castor glanced back over his shoulder to see Kurenai seated on a log, talking to a Mol as the two ate. “Afterwards, my companions and I will meet up at the tunnel near Dotharl Khaa and return to Doma. The rebels will remain here until I call for them since I don’t want them giving our position away by accident or by intent.” 

“You fear there may be those among the iron men rebels who would betray you to the Empire?” Cirinna frowned. 

“I doubt it, but I don’t want to take any chances on the Imperials finding our hideout and launching a preemptive assault on us before we’re ready,” Castor answered. “I don’t want to risk the Domans any more than they’ve already endured.” 

“I see!” Cirinna bobbed her head in understanding. “Like a hunter trying to drive away predators from a village!” 

Crude, but yes. Had the right idea. 

“You are correct in a way,” Castor nodded. “Although I fear the Empire is far more dangerous than any predator.” 

Cirinna frowned. “I fear such matters are beyond my understanding. Aside from that group that attacked us, I have had no dealings with this Empire. You seemed to deal with them easily enough.” 

“That was only a small century, a single unit. They weren’t the best soldiers the Empire has to throw at us, either, so it was easy to use my magics and the terrain against them,” Castor shrugged. “You saw the results of my savagery, of the weapon I have become in order to protect this world, this place.” 

“Savagery?” Hien repeated. “You did not take pride in that slaughter? Revel in the destruction you’ve wrought here and elsewhere?” 

Perhaps now would be a good chance to get the lord to see. To understand. 

Castor turned to Hien, slowly shaking his head as the weight of his sins once again bore down upon his heavy shoulders. “No, I do not. I fight and kill and destroy because it is my duty, because I must. Only a savage beast would take pleasure in the murder I have taken part of, of the sins that I have committed. I carry the weight of all I have done within me at all times, a constant reminder of the blood I have shed, the heads I have taken. I will never allow myself to forget, to forgive.” 

“Castor, I’m ready,” Kurenai said softly as she strode up to him, her face sullen and withdrawn.

“I’ll return shortly. Eat, rest, and we shall make for Doma to reclaim it,” Castor bowed to Hien. “Farewell for now, Lord Hien.” 

Kurenai at his side, they began their journey back to the Ruby Sea. 


	33. Back to Doma We Go

“Tribunus!” a soldier’s cry drew Severus’s attention to the lower levels of the Gration’s bridge, terminals beeping, whirring, and chattering all around them. 

“Speak!” he honed in on the one who’d called for his attention: a centurion who was in command of the engineers restoring the vessel. 

“We’re almost ready to start the test run!” the centurion reported, snapping out a salute and nearly decking an orderly who was trailing electrical lines to another crackling terminal. 

Good. Months of slaving away on the ship, stripping magiteknical parts from the Allagan ruins and fighting off the monstrosities and guardians still roaming Azys Lla were taking a toll on the legionaries. 

And these weren’t even the ones who were fighting in Gyr Abania against the Twelfth Legion. Professional soldiers against professional soldiers, both legions carrying reputations of ferocity in battle, discipline and efficiency that few others could match. 

Severus had overseen the repairs to the Gration for the most part while Arya had taken command of their forces in Gyr Abania, both Tribunes pushing their soldiers to their limits to keep their operations from falling apart. 

“Power everything up!” Severus barked, his sharp gaze roaming over the data feeds spewing from the scores of terminals. “Let’s see if this engine we’ve cobbled together will hold!” 

It had to, or otherwise this would all go to waste. All their efforts, all the coin they’d spent on materials and all the blood they’d shed defending their projects. 

Nobody had died, thank goodness, but far too many soldiers had been sent to the infirmary with severe injuries. Their medics were being worked hard.

The engineers and officers shouted orders back and forth as fingers flew over keypads, magitek humming to life and clacking. 

Severus’s nerves spiraled as he looked at the data feeds, taking note of how power began to smoothly flow through the ship’s veins. 

“Correct those hiccups! Divert power to the starboard conduits!”

“Engine’s not responding!” 

Not responding? Well, it might take a few tries for the cobbled parts to find a harmony and energy flow. 

Severus hoped they wouldn’t just explode. 

“Wait, we’re getting a signal!” an engineer called. 

“Ceruleum flow is steady!” 

Good... good. 

“Engine’s responding!”

Yes, Severus could see that from looking at the monitors, the data scrolling up constantly. 

Then came the red warning light.

“Something’s wrong!”

“It’s overheating!”

“Cut the flow! Now!” Severus roared.

“Wait, I think I found the problem!” one of the engineers shouted, jumping up from her terminal and sprinting out of the bridge. 

“What the hells? Where is she going?!” another man leaped into the spot she’d vacated and began working the terminal, his fingers flying across the keys. 

“We need to shut it down! Now!’ Severus repeated, his voice bellowing through the bridge. “I will not have that thing exploding!” 

“Shutting it down!”

“Closing vents!”

Relief flooded through Severus as he watched the crew expertly begin to salvage the ship, his mind returning to that engineer who’d fled the bridge.

She said she’d found the problem, but why did it necessitate her abandoning her post?

“Wait, sir!” another engineer spoke up. “Look! The energy levels are stabilizing!”

“What?” Severus glued his eyes back to the terminals, immediately taking note of how the energy flow was indeed stabilizing. 

All levels were subsiding to safer levels, which meant...

“Belay my previous orders!” Severus barked. “Keep the system active! Push the power through the engines!” 

This is it! If it didn’t work this time...

The orders continued, fingers blurs and heads swiveling as voices shouted themselves raw. 

“Connection to engine made!”

“Communication established!” 

Severus beat down the anxiety and icy fear gripping him as he all but glued himself to the terminal, ready to rip his helmet off just to ensure he was reading the data correctly. 

“Come on... everyone’s counting on us,” he whispered, the tension in the bridge turning the air into a churning soup. “Come on...” 

Sweat was beading his forehead, his pulse pounding in his head as his heart hammered his ribs. 

“Come on...”

The data flowed, his heart skipping a beat as it halted. 

And then the green light flashed. 

“Yes!” 

Engineers slumped in their seats, several letting out muted cheers as others exhaled heavily. 

“Starting the engines!” Severus called, reaching down to the activation key and pressing it. 

Immediately the ship shuddered, whining and humming as power was fully restored to its functionalities. 

“All lights are green!”

“The engine’s holding, sir!” 

All at once, everything lifted, Severus sighing as he leaned on the control station. “Where did that engineer go?”

“Right here, sir!” said engineer strode into the bridge, her uniform smoking as she grinned beneath her helmet and twirled a wrench about. 

“What did you find?” Severus asked, frowning at the way her hair smoked at the edges beneath the helmet. 

“Irregular connection due to a damaged conduit,” the engineer explained. “I remembered walking past the conduit earlier but forgot to repair it because I was working on the engine. I made amends for that now!” 

“While power was flowing through it?!” Severus heard several of the others gasp or swear. “Ye gods, woman, go see a Medicus, now!” 

“I’ll be fine, sir!” the engineer saluted, then promptly collapsed, her wrench clattering to the floor. 

“Get a healer, now!” Severus roared, glancing back at the terminal to ensure that the power was stable, the ceruleum was flowing, and the engines were not in danger of exploding. 

Everything was working, all thanks to this maniac!

Severus sighed and shook his head, watching as a Medicus rushed over and had the engineer carried off. 

“When the time comes, the Twelfth Legion is going to get a nasty surprise.” 

“Just promise me you’ll be safe, okay?” Kurenai’s final words to Castor echoed through his mind as he powered through the depths of the Ruby Sea, making for Isari and Yanxia. 

“I cannot promise you that, but I will try my best for you.” 

That was all he could do: all he could say. 

Leviathan coursed through his veins, feeding his strength in the deep. His body cut through the cold deep, the pillars of sunlight trickling through the sea his only light as he rose higher and higher. 

Could the Imperials attack Sui-no-Sato? He knew there were magitek vehicles that could travel through water, carrying soldiers, but he didn’t know if the garrison at Doma Castle had any. 

It was pretty expensive tech, more than anyone in Garlemald would waste on a backwater province like Doma, unless Zenos demanded it. 

He wouldn’t, he didn’t care about Doma and its governance. He only cared about finding worthy subjects to alleviate his boredom, of which it had none.

Besides, he had to be looking for Shinryu and Omega and it would only be a matter of time before the Crown Prince got his hands on one or the other. 

Both of them were as strong as Bahamut, maybe stronger, both capable of unleashing another Calamity upon the world. 

No, Castor would stop them, kill them before they had the chance to do so. Shinryu would be difficult to contain but, much like Bahamut, Castor would find a way to subdue the beast in time. 

The power it would grant him... 

His feet sank into soft sand, gouging the undersea earth. Castor hauled himself out of the sea, enduring the suffocating agony as his aether-induced gills faded. 

The sand shifted beneath his feet with each slogging step he took forward before he dispelled the water soaking him. He ignored the village and made his way back towards the Steppe, back to the winds that were calling him and the land that whispered his name, when Fray stirred yet again inside of him. 

_“We could stay here, you know, after we’re done fighting everyone’s battles for them.”_

“So you’ve said, Fray. I don’t imagine you’ll ever let me forget the offer.”

The cave wasn’t as dark and moldy as before, actually seeming bearable this time. Light flared, welcoming him back to the Steppe as he inhaled the warm air.

As for Omega... the Allagan creation or whatever it was would have to be destroyed. It was too dangerous, too unpredictable, to be left on this star. It would destroy the world if left in the wrong hands. 

And as for all the other worlds out there... they shouldn’t have to deal with the machine if he could destroy it. 

 _“Oh, wonderful, why don’t we just launch ourselves into the unknown?!”_  Fray griped dramatically.  _“Enslave ourselves to people who live on entirely different worlds?! Find some other wench to sleep with?! Maybe one with horns growing out of her_ _arse_ _?!”_

“Shut up,” Castor grumbled as he stepped out onto the endless plains of the Steppe, warmth and a sense of belonging once again washing over him. 

He could feel Azim and Nhaama sequestered within his very soul: cold moonlight and burning sunlight slithering through his veins. They were silent, watching him, waiting to channel whatever they could through the new catalyst they’d created with the Dawn Throne. 

“Ah, Castor!” Cirinna was waiting at the gates of Reunion, her smile radiant as she waved to him. “The others are waiting near the Dawn Throne!”

They should have kept going; he’d catch up to them in little time. 

“Thank you for waiting for me,” he nodded to the Mol girl, whose smile only grew as she nodded back. 

“Of course! Come on!” 

She put two fingers to her mouth and whistled sharply, her Yol’s keen cry following moments later. Her mount’s great shadow fell across the town, drawing eyes from the markets up as the magnificent beast pounded the air with its powerful wings. 

It lowered itself to the ground, bowing its noble head to Castor before leaning over and rubbing against Cirinna. 

“Cute,” Castor muttered to himself as the girl giggled and caressed the bird’s feathers.

“Aren’t you going to call yours?” Cirinna asked, swinging up onto her mount’s back. 

Castor reached into his bond with Odin, twilight power amassing before him as Sleipnir took form from the void. “I have a ride.”

The abyssal mount reared back proudly, whinnying and shaking his blood-red mane as his front legs slammed back onto the earth. 

Castor leaped onto the saddle, his duster billowing behind him as he took the reins and balanced himself on the mount. 

“Let’s go!” he called to Cirinna, who was staring at Sleipnir with poorly concealed awe. 

The Mol girl didn’t respond, her eyes wide as she stared at the Dark Divinity’s steed, but her mount screeched and pounded its mighty wings to rise into the air. Cirinna yelped and clutched to the Yol before she could be thrown off, her pink hair the last thing Castor saw before the bird streaked into the skies. 

“Go, Sleipnir,” he said to the twilit mount, who shook his head and whinnied before his powerful muscles gathered beneath Castor’s body. 

Castor gripped the reins tightly as his mount thundered forward at a full gallop, wind howling in his ears and whipping his face. The Steppe flew by in a blur, the Dawn Throne zipping past in a barely distinguishable mass before it and those odd stone fingers surrounding it were left in Sleipnir’s wake. 

How far behind was Cirinna?

Sleipnir’s powerful stride slowed, drawing Castor from his thoughts to the sheer cliff wall rising above him, a lone cave carved through it. 

And... what the seven hells? His allies were either on their knees or sprawled on the ground, an... old man in a bathrobe standing over them? 

“Uh....” Castor kept a wary eye on said old man as Sleipnir drew closer to him, already sensing a strange power coming off of the codger. “What’s going on here?” 

“Careful! He’s more dangerous than he looks!” Lyse groaned out. “It was like fighting an army...” 

“Oh dear, another one?” the old man said cheerily. “Could you kindly point me in the direction of the nearest-” 

Castor dismounted just as Sleipnir bowled towards the stranger, forcing him to dive to the side with agility not befitting such an elderly disguise. His feet hit the ground, his katana already in his hands and whispering from its scabbard as he leveled it at the old man performing a handstand before flipping back onto his feet. 

“Who are you?” Castor glowered at the old man, power from the Steppe flowing through his muscles.  “And drop the disguise: it’s creeping me out.” 

“T-this power!” the old man’s eyes widened before a puff of smoke engulfed his body, dispelling the disguise to reveal a sharp-eyed young Doman wearing shinobi garb of a make Castor had never seen before. “I can almost feel the land wrapping around you! Who are you?”

“My name is Castor van Entialpoh, khagan of the Azim Steppe,” Castor kept his blade unwavering, his gaze smoldering with golden light. 

Nidhogg’s wounds ached and burned in response to the gathering of his power, making him clench his jaw to avoid wincing. Damn you, you blasted wyrm!

“Khagan of the Azim Steppe?” the shinobi repeated slowly, his eyes narrowing with a harsh gleam. “You bear the name of a foreigner, the same one whispered by the traitors who followed Sasuke’s teachings.”

Oboro and Yugiri had spoken of that name before. The founder of their arts? 

“And you are?” Castor frowned at the arrogant manner of this shinobi, his sneer already grating on his nerves. 

“Hanzo of the Kagekakushi Clan, the true practitioners of the arts of ninjutsu!” the shinobi declared, pulling a scroll from his belt. “Stand aside or be crushed by my ninjutsu! If your filthy tribals try to stop me, I’ll destroy them as well! And after I’m done with you, I’ll dispose of those pesky false shinobi and that upstart princess! Maybe I’ll visit her little village and raze it to the ground!”

“A trespasser who threatens my people,” Castor glowered. “And you’re also threatening my friends.”

Wait a minute: where was Yugiri? 

Hien... Gosetsu... Lyse... the shinobi was the only one not present. 

“Ha!” Hanzo whipped out the scroll, his fingers forming mudra signs rapid fire. “Face the power of the forbidden summoning mudra!”

A flash of smoke, and then there was a swarm of rabbits hopping around Hanzo. 

“Oh no, terrifying,” Castor drawled as Hanzo looked down at the little creatures, eyes wide with bewilderment. 

“N-no, that can’t be!”

Castor drew upon the power of Odin, letting the twilight power immerse his katana in a dark light. 

“Ha!” Karasu, of all people, jumped down from a ledge, his painted lips curved into a sneer. “You thought I’d-”

Castor unleashed his power in a dark line splitting the earth, heading straight for Hanzo, but the shinobi darted aside at just the right moment to avoid being sliced in half. Parts of his scarf and garb hit the ground behind him, having not been so lucky to emerge unscathed. 

“Impressive,” Castor mused. “Alas, it will not save you.” 

He advanced, one foot stomping in front of the other with each step as he bore down on the shinobi, waiting to see what he’d do. 

Hanzo made another flurry of hand signs before vanishing in a puff of smoke, mirror images of him appearing all around Castor. 

“Face the fury of the Kagekakushi!” the swarm of shinobi drew blades and lunged, several hurling shuriken at the same time. 

“Predictable,” Castor tried to spread his senses out, to detect which of these images was real, only to be hit by a surge of life signs. 

They were all real... how? 

Two of the copies pounced, their blades streaking towards what would have been vulnerable spots if Castor wasn’t already erecting a barrier of shadows around himself. Steel met darkness as hard as stone, the copies’ eyes widening in surprise. 

“Alright, your mudra is impressive, I’ll give you that,” Castor grunted. “But you’re way out of your league here.” 

Shuriken skittered off the shield, then a kunai knife with a piece of paper thudded into the side. 

The world exploded in light and fire and smoke, the deafening roar making Castor’s ears ring and his head scream as the shockwave pounded his body. His vision swam, his shield wavering as his concentration waned. 

He sensed the blades streaking towards him and was already in motion, whipping his katana out in a wide sweeping motion. 

Steel met flesh, spurts of hot blood splashing across Castor’s body as he slashed through one body and then another and another in quick succession, the power of the strike forcing away the smoke and clearing his vision. 

Three of the copies hit the ground, shattering like glass while the others warily eyed Castor.

“Impressive, khagan,” they all spoke in unison, all forming more hand signs as three more copies emerged to replace the fallen ones. “But you aren’t going to leave here alive.”

Castor sensed the coming storm just moments before it hit: fire, water, lightning, ice, all exploding around him as more and more mudra was unleashed by Hanzo. 

The eikons dispelled each elemental attack as easily as if they were swatting flies, leaving Castor standing alone in the scarred ruins of the earth around him, utterly untouched. He glanced at his allies, relief filling him at the sight of Lyse and Gosetsu hauling Hien away from the battleground. 

“After I kill you, I’ll turn the Doman prince over to the Empire,” Hanzo sneered. “The money they pay me will fuel my people for years to come!” 

“If they don’t decide to enslave you or kill you,” Castor drawled, sorely wishing he had a greatsword to swing at this whelp. 

Damn you, Myste! 

_“Need some help here? I’m itching to sink my blade into this insolent worm’s throat!”_

 “Go ahead, Fray,” Castor answered, Hanzo and his clones frowning at the words.

“Fray? Who is Fray?” 

Castor felt the Abyss twisting and swirling inside of him, then felt it separate, split off. 

Darkness swirled behind one of Hanzo’s clones, and then Deathbringer’s spiked blade sheared the image in half. 

“What the?!” the others scattered as Fray emerged from the Abyss, dark bolts erupting from his fingertips. 

“Impressive!” Hanzo sneered, a rain of knives and shuriken flying towards Fray, who shielded himself with Deathbringer’s wide blade.

Of course his damn Darkside had the greatsword. 

“I’m going to splatter you across the Steppe!” Fray roared, lunging at the haughty shinobi lord’s closest copies. 

Castor sprinted forward to meet his Darkside, their blades carving gashes through the air as their rage condensed into scarlet auras around them. The shinobi danced aside with ease, one howling as a dark bolt loosed from Fray slammed into its chest. 

Hot rage burned through Castor’s veins, tinting his already gold vision red as he buried his long katana blade into the shoulder of another Hanzo. 

Both of the bodies shattered, the others fading until only one man remained, his breathing labored and brow shining with sweat. 

“A real challenge! How annoying!” Hanzo sneered, a warm breeze from the Steppe making his hair sway to the left. “I’ll end this quickly!”

Smoke engulfed the Dark Knights, Castor’s senses already alerting him to the presence of more clones even before he called on Garuda’s violent gales to disperse the smoke. 

They were surrounded by half a dozen sneering shinobi, each one standing wisely out of reach of Deathbringer as they hefted their blades. 

“Which one of these bastards is real?” Fray growled, pure hatred dripping from his voice. 

Hatred that made Nidhogg’s wounds burn and scream, howling for blood. 

Castor shoved it aside, keeping his guard ready as he examined the clones. The breeze had stopped, yet their hair was still sweeping to their left, caressed by a phantom wind. 

“The hair,” he whispered to Fray. “It’s still moving as if the breeze is still here.”

“Got it,” Fray growled.

Steel gleamed in the hands of the shinobi, ready to be unleashed at the slightest opening Castor gave. 

Then his eyes fell on the one person whose hair wasn’t blowing, quickly forcing his gaze to continue roaming so as to not alert Hanzo that he’d figured it out. 

“The one to my right, your left, see him?” he hissed to Fray, who shot a side glance over.

“Yeah, let’s take him.”

Both Dark Knights pivoted on their feet almost in unison, their well-built bodies streaking towards the one shinobi whose hair stood still. Steel punched flesh, Hanzo’s eyes widening with horror and disbelief as he stared down at the blades now impaling him. 

The clones vanished into nothingness, leaving their master to spit blood alone as his gaze rose to the Dark Knights. 

“H-how?” he croaked. “My technique... flawless...” 

“Flawless, my arse,” Fray spat in his face. “Your clones’ blowing hair gave away your position.” 

A bitter smile formed on Hanzo’s lips as the life began to bleed from his eyes, his blood dripping from the two blades. “Ah... the wind... I...” 

Then Fray ripped Deathbringer out of Hanzo’s body in a shower of blood and internal organs, silencing whatever the Kagekakushi shinobi was about to say. 

Castor growled and all but threw the carcass off his sword, letting the ravaged remains crumple onto the earth, watering it with what had once given it life. 

“That was impressive, but disappointing,” Castor muttered. “He never once considered that he was facing something he couldn’t beat.” 

“Castor!” Cirinna chose the perfect time to swoop down upon her Yol, dismounting as the creature came to rest upon the earth. “What happened?!” 

“I don’t even know, but apparently two ninja clans in Doma have been fighting,” Castor shrugged. “This one saw the opening to the Steppe, snuck across, and then attacked the others.” 

“His clones kept coming at us,” Lyse and Gosetsu were tending to their wounds. “It was like fighting mirrors!” 

“I see,” Castor nodded. “I’m glad you’re alright, more or less. It was irritating, I will agree with you on that.” 

He dug out his Soul of the White Mage and tossed it in their direction, hoping the magic would quickly close their wounds as he nudged Hanzo’s corpse with his foot. 

“Bah, he was a disappointment,” Fray growled, spitting on the gore-matted remains. “Just cheap mirror tricks.” 

“Cheap mirror tricks that drew away Oboro and most of the village’s shinobi to combat an army that didn’t exist,” Yugiri emerged from the shadows of the cave, her eyes hard and steely. 

“Oboro’s here?” Castor frowned. “I thought he was back in Eorzea, and what was this I was hearing about Princess Yuki?” 

“Oboro and Jacke from the Rogue’s Guild were pursuing thieves when they got themselves wrapped up in business with the Garnet League and the Kagekakushi Clan over some forbidden scroll,” Yugiri explained. “Lord Hien bade me to scout ahead to ensure our route to the House of the Fierce was unobstructed.” 

Her tone was neutral despite the bitterness simmering inside of her, emanating from the gaze she shot at her healing lord. 

Another failure added to her already lofty list. 

“And you ran across an army of shinobi dashing to wherever Hanzo’s henchmen were conjuring up a fake invasion force,” Castor guessed, another thought making him frown. “How did the Imperials react to this? I highly doubt they were blind to what was happening on their very doorstep.” 

“There was no reaction as far as I could tell,” Yugiri frowned. “Perhaps they are preparing themselves for an upcoming assault: they have to know that we’re planning to attack the keep.” 

“It is logical,” Castor nodded. “The only thing they have no idea of is ‘when’.” 

“Grynwaht will be reporting on the rebels if he even remembers them, so we must be certain that Yotsuyu will attempt to purge all traces of treachery from her ranks. Those blindly loyal will cement their allegiance to the Empire, while those sympathetic to our cause may find reason to abandon it to save their own skins if they haven’t already,” Castor frowned. “We will have to attack as soon as possible. I’ll be communicating with the rebels encamped here and they will relay my orders to the rest of the Xaela participating in the attack.” 

“So, what are we going to do in regards to battle?” Hien spoke up, striding over with Castor’s Soul of the White Mage in his offered hand. “We will need more allies than this.” 

“What were you thinking?” Castor accepted the stone, warmth spreading from it and soothing his muscles as he slipped it back into the satchel. 

“The Kojin and the Confederacy would be irreplacable allies in regards to assaulting the palace from the sea,” Hien said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “If we can destroy the magitek Moon Gates, we can send a Confederacy ship or two in to bombard the outer defenses before heading to the Enclave.” 

“A wise suggestion: if the palace comes under attack, the Imperials may descend on the Enclave in order to take hostages,” Castor nodded, impressed with how far ahead the Doman lord had thought. “And the Kojin?”

“I have little doubt that the Imperials have some anti-ship defenses in the harbors, so perhaps it would be prudent to utilize the Kojin to clear those defenses and plant explosives at the castle walls,” Hien answered, his gaze coolly leveled at Castor, gauging his reaction. “They could create openings for our invasion forces.” 

“I agree. And if I could get the rebels to disable some of the defenses as well, would you want to try that? Or would you prefer to have them hang back until we breach the walls, hit the Imperials when they’re most vulnerable?” 

Hien pondered for a moment, his eyes thoughtful as he shrugged. “We shall have to see how our first assault pans out, my friend! If we are having difficulties breaching the outer defenses, then perhaps it would be prudent to have your rebel legionnaires strike immediately to help clear a path, but I get the feeling the best option would be to utilize them to hit the Imperials when they’re already preoccupied with us.” 

“An astute observation, my lord,” Castor nodded again. “The rebels could grip the entire garrison by the throat, perhaps even render Yotsuyu’s escape plans meaningless if they struck at the right time.” 

Hien grinned. “Now, then! Let us be on our way to the House of the Fierce, my friends! Doma and her people await!” 

Indeed. And now the battle for one nation’s liberation will begin.


	34. Preparations for War

Patience and Penance.

The two words echoed through Castor’s mind as he and the rest of the party moved through the cave unsealed by the Dotharl, the musty, moldy stench of something long closed stinging his nostrils. 

Damn you, Sephirot. You and the rest of the Warring Triad. 

“Castor, are you feeling okay?” He looked down at Lyse, whose expression was a well-conceived mask of concern as she stared up at him. 

“I am fine,” he answered, pushing aside the raging in his soul and the burning agony of Nidhogg. “Let’s keep moving.” 

“The Valley of the Fallen Rainbow awaits us ahead, my friends!” Yugiri called, her voice a small balm to the churning pain and hate that followed Castor everywhere he went. 

A balm, was that all she was? Something to take away the pain and hate, make him remember himself?

No, she was more: a piece of his heart, a part of his soul. She was irreplaceable. 

“Here we are, my friends!” Hien announced as the cave gave way to a red gate like the Gensui Chain gates, then widened into a massive, lush valley. 

Castor could see why it was called the Valley of the Fallen Rainbow: crystals of all sizes and colors glittered in the swampy marsh below, shimmering with an almost otherworldly aura as the party made their way towards a rocky outcropping. 

“It’s... beautiful,” Lyse murmured. 

“It is,” Castor agreed, his senses prickling. 

He looked over at what appeared to be a bamboo thicket, catching a glimpse of orange and black stripes before it was lost to the thick growths. 

“Tigers,” he called to the others. “Stay alert.” 

Yugiri and Gosetsu were immediately at their lord’s side, weapons drawn and gleaming as Lyse slipped into a defensive stance with her fists. 

Hard gazes roamed the wilderness around them, muscles tensed and adrenaline pouring through spiderwebbing veins. 

“Is that all?” Lyse asked after several moments of tense silence. 

“I still sense a lot of beasts around, but perhaps a show of force will cow them,” Castor mused, his gaze already roaming for a suitable target/ 

One of which was already dashing through the growth towards them!

He spun, sword whipping out and shearing into the furred beast exploding from its hiding place, yellowed fangs snapping shut inches away from Castor’s neck. 

“Castor!” Yugiri’s alarmed shout preceded the steel knives slamming into the dying beast’s side, the heavy weight of its hot carcass settling onto Castor’s arms as its fetid last breath washed over his face, making his eyes water. 

“Ye gods, that’s foul,” he grunted, heaving the carcass aside and letting it land heavily onto the dusty earth.

His bloodstained katana blade squelched from the carcass as he withdrew it, flicking the blood from the weapon before sliding it back into its scabbard. Such beasts were hardly a problem anymore, not for a monster walking around in human flesh. 

Little more than another Zenos. 

Another savage animal. 

 _“Zenos is not like us, in all the ways that matter,”_  Fray growled.  _“He is an animal; we are a_ _soldier._ _”_

We fight, Zenos murders. 

Or so we think.

“Castor? Are you there?” 

“Tiger got your tongue, friend?” 

Castor shook his head, his gaze lifting from the cooling carcass of the tiger back to his allies. “Apologies: Fray and I were arguing.” 

_“Really? That’s your excuse? Pin it on me?”_

“What about?” Lyse frowned, the discomfort in her eyes poorly hidden. 

What was it that had ignited this new fear in her? Something he’d said? 

“Zenos,” Castor grunted, her fear only rising. 

So, it had to do with him and Zenos, perhaps something linking them together? Tightening the already thick knot that already bound them. 

His communicator buzzed, making him activate it and lift it to his ear. “Speak.” 

“My lord, we’ve been in contact with our allies in the palace,” it was one of the officers on the Steppe. “They’ve told us that Yotsuyu is attempting to stamp out those sympathetic to our cause through force. The garrison and the rest of the occupation force are at each other’s throats, and we believe that the best time to attack would be immediately, before Yotsuyu can consolidate her forces.” 

“I agree with your assessment. We’ll keep in contact with you when the rest of our forces are in position to assault the palace,” Castor nodded, his allies’ concerned looks abating. “Contact me if you have any issues.” 

“Yes, my lord!” the connection cut and Castor lowered his arm. 

“Spies from inside the palace report that the garrison and occupation forces are in turmoil due to Yotsuyu forcibly attempting to cleanse their ranks,” he reported. “We must move quickly if we are to take advantage of this.”  

Hien frowned. “So soon? My people don’t even have armor or proper weapons.” 

“Your people will not have to fight,” Castor reminded him. “They have endured the Imperials for too long, I would not throw them to the frontlines.” 

“I appreciate the concern, Legatus, but what’s to stop some Imperial soldiers if they decide to attack the village while we’re fighting?” Hien raised an eyebrow, demanding an answer. 

“My soldiers on the Steppe will guard the village gates, ensure that no Imperial reprisals come to fruition,” Castor answered. “My legionaries will take up positions before the river and basin, tucked in the hills blocking the entrances into Namai, in places where the villagers will not see them. And if you still harbor concerns for their safety, I will have a few Yol riders watching over the village from above while the rest of the tribes move against the palace and the aerial units.” 

Hien grinned. “You’ve thought this through.” 

“I was a higher-ranking officer in the Fourteenth under Lord van Baelsar, one that aided in the planning of military maneuvers and sieges, so of course I have experience in planning assaults,” Castor nodded. “Granted, I’m used to having a whole panel of officers and strategists giving me input and suggestions, but I feel this is a solid plan of attack.” 

“Right, professional soldier,” Lyse muttered. “I remember Thancred describing how strange you were when he first started following you. While ‘training’ for the gladiators, he described you as a novice adventurer wildly flailing around with the stolen Imperial weapons you were carrying.” 

“Really?” Yugiri’s intrigue easily channeled through their bond, and Castor internally sighed as he pictured the two women chatting about what the Scions had seen while he was masquerading as a novice adventurer. 

By Hydaelyn, he had almost been relieved when Mylla had summoned him to her office by the guild and told him to drop the act. She’d challenged him to a duel, and the two had fought one another to a standstill in the Coliseum. 

 _“Wait, what are you-”_  

Burning pain erupted from the inside of his head, the world blurring together until it was replaced by a vision of the past. 

“Ha!” steel shrieked as two armored forms clashed, the walls of the Coliseum shaking as a crowd of onlookers roared their excitement. 

Castor rem Entialpoh skidded backwards on the stone floor of the arena, his black katzbalgr and magitek lantern shield scored with the marks of Mylla’s own battered equipment. His steel cuirass, sabatons, and gauntlets gleamed as they reflected the lights of the Coliseum, covered in dust and dried blood. 

His grey flesh was slick with sweat, his feline ears flicking as his chest heaved with the air he was gulping down. The sharp blue eyes of the guild master met the cold, professional gaze of her black-haired opponent, the one obsidian black and one lily white eyes gleaming with emotions Castor hadn’t felt in a long time: the rush of battle, the joy of facing an opponent against whom he could go all out. 

“Good!” Mylla crowed, brandishing her weapon. “When I first laid eyes on you that day you came into the guild, I had the feeling there was something different about you. Even though my eyes told me that you were barely trained and just as green as any other novice adventurer, there were some other reports from villagers and refugees that were saying you were using swordplay far beyond a regular adventurer’s skill.” 

Castor frowned at her, glancing up at the spectators currently glued to their match. 

She winked before lunging, her blade bouncing off his shield before her own intercepted Castor’s thrust. The two separated and leaped back, the obvious difference in their respective training made by the stances they took upon coming to rest: Mylla taking up a sideways defensive stance with her shield covering her body and Castor utilizing a legion stance that kept the lantern shield in front of him, the katzbalgr ready to lash out from behind it. 

It was a stance generally preferred for the long sabers that comprised the gunblades of the legions, but many soldiers had found it equally devastating with standard legionnaire equipment. 

He once again found himself missing his old gunblade. 

“A soldier who survived Carteneau arriving at my guild!” Mylla announced, Castor’s concerns fading immediately. “Yet I still wonder why you didn’t attempt to rejoin the ranks of the Flames.” 

“The Serpents, not the Flames,” Castor lied. “And I did rejoin them, as an adventurer conscript.” 

Soldier and guildmaster lunged, steel shrieking and sparks flying as two blades collided in violent symphony. They slashed and slashed, shields and blades taking the brunt of the other’s assault before they separated once again, circling warily like stalking predators. 

“But why hide it? Why pretend to be a novice?” Mylla asked, even though she already knew the answers. 

She’d seen the mark branded upon his shoulder, had held a blade to his throat, thinking he was a spy. 

“I saw many horrors on the fields of Carteneau, horrors that will follow me for the rest of my life. I wasn’t fit to fight until only recently, and my time as a new adventurer served to get me back on my feet,” Castor answered, none of the words he’d spoken a lie. 

He’d wandered for so long, crossed roads that these Eorzeans had never even seen, all to find his new purpose. He’d abandoned his legion, abandoned everything he’d ever known, all for the chance to save the people of his homeland. 

“And... I was afraid,” he said as he ducked beneath Mylla’s blade before riposting and driving her back. “Afraid that I would be called a traitor, a coward.” 

“You’re a hero, given everything you’ve done since you returned,” Mylla replied, finally lowering her blade.

“Since I’ve returned...” Castor chuckled bitterly, lowering his own weapon. “Perhaps.” 

She did not know what he’d done, the sins he’d committed. 

A monster in the making, bearing what he hoped was a hero’s purpose. 

The vision blurred, fading back into reality with a stunning warp. 

“Castor?! Castor?!” someone was shaking him, calling his name. 

The world solidified, sharpening into focus around him and revealing Yugiri standing before him, her hands clasping his arms and shaking them. 

“What?” he blinked the aftereffects of the Echo away, nodding down to his other half. “Echo, sorry. A vision of my past.” 

“What did you see?” Hien asked, curiosity filling his voice. 

“The duel I’d fought with my former guildmaster, Mylla, after she found out I was an Imperial deserter,” Castor didn’t see any purpose in lying to the Doman lord. “She wanted to test my skills for herself and so we fought in the Coliseum. It was one of the last battles against a human opponent in which I actually enjoyed the fight.” 

Then came the Amal’jaa, Ifrit, his rise into becoming the Warrior of Light. The rise of the monster that now stalked this world, sinking bloody, cracked fangs and claws into any who challenged him. 

The world was a mass grave of those he had slain: monsters, beasts, humans, all equals in the death he had granted them. 

“Does Zenos not excite you in battle?” Gosetsu asked: a loaded question aimed directly at the heart of the matter. 

“Zenos is a fellow monster, but our fight is not one meant for enjoyment,” Castor honed in on the samurai, fixing him with a cold stare. “I do not enjoy fighting against one who thinks so little of slaughtering innocents.” 

Gosetsu nodded, approving of the answer.

 _“As if the old fool even had the right to judge us. What does he know?”_  

He could still feel the call of the Steppe, the warm winds and restless plains whispering to him to return home. 

Home... what was his home? 

The place he was born? The legion in which he grew up? The nations that piled their full weight upon his shoulders? 

“Let’s keep going,” Yugiri’s gaze lingered on him, her worry burning through their bond as her self-hatred was banished in favor for his well-being. 

Gods, this woman is incredible. 

“Castor, are you okay?” her voice whispered through his mind, her lithe fingers clasping his own as the group began their trek towards the rocky hills hiding the House of the Fierce. 

“I honestly do not know, but I will keep moving forward,” he answered. “Have no other choice.” 

“You don’t have to do this alone,” she chided.

“I know. Thank you, for everything. For... for being at my side even as I was drowning in my inner darkness,” his mind drifted back to Whitebrim, that fight against Fray. 

Had it really been so long ago? When the world had become warped and twisted by everything he’d kept inside, every word he’d bitten down and the hatred and loathing that he’d pushed into the depths of his soul.

Castor had lost himself, become little more than a beast driven by hatred and rage. He’d almost killed so many people... yet Yugiri had awakened him. She had attacked an enemy that she’d had no chance of defeating, all for his sake. 

“And I would do it all over again, a thousand times,” she declared, her hand squeezing his with as much force as she could muster. “For you, my beloved Castor.” 

“My lord Hien!” A shocked gasp drew Castor back to reality, where a shinobi was kneeling before the Doman lord. 

They were standing before a tunnel that no doubt led into the House of the Fierce, one of the many pathways that led to the heart of the Doman Resistance. 

Castor could feel the broken aetheryte inside, feel it humming and churning with the power of the Lifestream. The twins had managed to fix the thing? Impressive, even for their lauded accomplishments. 

In scarcely a day or two, as well. They were Sharlayans, through and through, it would seem. And yet they were still children. What else would their sharp intellect and prowess take them to in the future?

He had to make sure they had a future, to begin with. 

 _“As if that’s our responsibility.”_  

Shut up, Fray. 

_“At least they don’t have to fight armies on their own. At least they don’t shoulder the weight of entire nations. The legion, for one thing, actually helps us fight, unlike the others.”_

Castor raised an eyebrow at that, glanced at Lyse, Yugiri, the others who had been fighting at his side throughout the course of this little campaign. 

_“Trying to fight. They still thrust everything onto you, make you carry the burden while they languish in their weakness.”_

Perhaps, but he would still fight. He was the only one capable of standing against Zenos, against Garlemald, so he had no choice but to continue this bloody crusade. 

“Well done, my friends!” Hien’s words drew Castor out of his internal debate, his gaze roaming around the subterranean House and the towering aetheryte now hovering within the central cavern. 

The twins were standing before their work, pride and weariness emanating from them as they studied Hien. 

“Thank you, Lord Hien,” Alphinaud bowed. “So, what are we to do next?” 

“We plan for an immediate assault on the palace,” Castor answered, drawing the admiring gazes of the other Doman Liberation Front fighters from Hien to himself. 

The admiration faded immediately. 

“W-we are in no shape to assault the palace!” one shinobi stammered. 

“The Liberation Front will be stationed around the village itself as a show of force as my soldiers from the Steppe take the front lines in assaulting the palace,” Castor announced. “As Khagan of the Azim Steppe, the tribes are bound to my authority and have chosen to fight alongside me in ousting the Empire’s occupation forces.” 

The Liberation Front members immediately began murmuring amongst themselves, several looking at Hien for directive. 

“An army of Xaela to fight the Empire... so this is why you were at the Steppe, my lord?” one samurai asked. 

“It is,” Hien nodded. “To tell the truth, I certainly didn’t expect the Chosen of the Steppe’s patron deities to come to my aid in my endeavor, but full glad am I to have Castor leading the proud warriors of the Xaela.” 

“We are at your disposal, Lord Hien,” Castor bowed his head to the prince. “With the Xaela and the Imperial rebels who have defected to my authority, we have forces in two places to drive Garlemald right out of Doma.” 

“Wait, Imperial rebels?” one of the fighters spoke up. “Is that why we’ve been watching the occupation forces practically tearing each other’s throats out?” 

“Indeed: you can thank my Tribunus for the Empire-wide broadcast that plunged the provinces into civil war,” Castor sighed. “Doma is no exception: I’ve already been contacted by legionnaires who seek to defect and aid in our endeavor to free your nation from Imperial occupation. A force of said rebels is camped on the Steppe now, awaiting my orders to march against the rest of the legion.” 

The front door of the hideout, the one hidden behind the underwater tunnel, ground open, footsteps approaching.

“How could a simple broadcast plunge the Empire, of all things, into civil war?” another fighter demanded. “What was on it?” 

“This, my friends,” of all the people to walk into the House of the Fierce, Castor hadn’t been expecting Captain Rasho of the Confederacy, along with Soroban. 

“Captain Rasho? Soroban?” Lyse spoke up first, the disbelief in her voice mirroring Castor’s unspoken surprise. “What are you doing here?” 

Rasho bowed his head. “Legatus, forgive me for not being frank with you when you first showed up, but this is the reason why I decided to work with you.” 

The transmitter that he had been using back in the Ruby Sea was pulled out of his satchel and placed upon a nearby table, light flaring to form the images held within. 

Ah, it was this: the final fight against Regula van Hydrus and the little rant Castor went on about opposing the Empire! 

Castor remembered every moment, from the brutal fighting between the two legions to Regula’s final whispered words before his head had been severed from his shoulders.

When the transmission faded after Severus had approached the helmet, all eyes fell upon Castor, wide and filled with awe. 

“Huh, so Regula set himself up to die, hoping to elicit some strong words from me,” Castor mused, shaking his head slowly. “I played right into his hands...” 

“Yes, but that little play was exactly why the Empire is becoming so fragmented, why those who languish under the iron heel are now rising against their tormentors: civilians and soldiers alike,” Rasho smiled coolly, folding his arms. “But, that is not why we are here. A friend of yours, a certain Ruby Princess, came to us and begged us for our aid in fighting against the Empire.” 

Oh, Kurenai, you sweet, wonderful thing! 

“We will stand with you, if only because you rescued our brothers and sisters, and we will be able to exert our influence against the Empire,” Rasho continued. 

“And as for we Blue Kojin: we will not stand idly by and let this happen! Not after you lent us your aid against our Red brethren!” Soroban announced. “We will stand by Doma and her people in ousting our mutual foe!” 

“You have my gratitude, my friends!” Hien bowed to the two leaders. “We should all get prepped and plan for our assault.” 

“Right, especially if we’re going to be coordinating with rebels,” Castor nodded. “Shall we, Lord Hien?” 

Oh boy, this was going to be fun...

Pathetic. 

“Milord, we have been receiving reports all over the Empire of factions splintering off and assaulting our troops, but the damage has been minimal here,” one of his Tribunes reported, her voice betraying the concern and fear that was gripping her. “A-Are you certain you are recovered enough to move, my lord?” 

A weakness. And the Twelfth had no place for the weak, no matter who they were. 

Zenos pushed himself off the savage’s throne and reached over to his revolving scabbard, his fingers closing around Ame-no-Habakiri and drawing the beautiful weapon from within.

The officers tensed, their fear and apprehension almost making a sigh escape Zenos’ lips. They needed to fear him, to fear his power, but it was all so predictable, so easy. These weaklings were no real challenge, not like that wondrous, glorious beast that danced with death and reveled in destruction just as Zenos did. 

His neck still throbbed if he moved it too much: a beautiful reminder of the savagery that Castor van Entialpoh commanded. If Zenos closed his eyes, he could picture the smoldering hatred burning within those golden eyes, the strength that drove him to use every ounce of his own power just to strike back and drag his claws across his foe. 

They were equals, apex predators standing above the rest of this pitiful star. The world lay helpless at their feet: prey to satiate the hunger that rises within the ultimate hunters. 

“The Twelfth is no place for the weak, and you have all disappointed me enough,” Zenos could almost feel the traitorous thoughts coming from several, mingling with fear and anger. 

Almost immediately after he’d finished speaking, five of the officers broke ranks and drew their weapons, gunshots shattering the air as they took aim at Zenos. 

A lazy swipe was all it took to cut the bullets from the air, his dark blade unleashing energy that rent his prey like the beasts they were. Armored forms hit the ground, spilling blood and gore. 

“Pathetic,” Zenos intoned, his boredom still running rampant as he gazed upon the four corpses on the floor. 

Wait, only four?

“Gah!” the fifth traitor crumpled from where he’d been attempting to flee, cut down upon the edge of a certain savage’s blade. 

“Milord!” Fordola rem Lupus sheathed her sword, the only one present not among the traitors who had actually bothered to bare her fangs against them. 

“Be silent, Ala Mhigan!” the imperious Tribunus barked again, her sneering voice drawing a sigh from Zenos as he turned to her. “I must remind you that-” 

Zenos swung, slicing through the impudent beast before she could squeal any further. 

“Anyone else?” he asked, the rest of his officers fighting their trembling bodies, aside from the savage. 

Perhaps she had promise, after all. 

Zenos glanced down at the bodies now watering the marble floors with their blood and offal. They had been so weak, but perhaps they’d been brave in defying him. 

The words of the demon had given them the hope to defy Zenos, to defy the Empire. 

Pathetic. They were prey just like all the others: nothing more, nothing less. 

Beasts to be ground beneath the heels of Zenos and the demon van Entialpoh. All that they were good for was for serving as prey to sate the hunger of their betters. 

Zenos sheathed his dark sword and seated himself back upon the throne, his gaze roaming over his remaining staff. “As of now, all who seek to defect will die.” 

Doma. The demon was still in Doma, which meant that Yotsuyu was going to lose the province soon. As if it mattered: Doma was insignificant and provided pitiful prey for the hunt, so it no longer held any importance. 

And Yotsuyu’s death at Castor’s hands would remove another pitiful savage from this star, so perhaps the demon would be doing Zenos a favor. 

As for the legion... this assassination attempt showed that these little beasts had forgotten their place, forgotten that they were here to serve Zenos, no one else. They were his to control, his to dispose of if they outlived their usefulness. 

Or if he was bored and they just happened to be in front of him. There had to be some bloodshed to get him through the periods where the boredom was almost too much to handle. 

Zenos rested his head upon the armored hand propped upon the throne’s armrest, the emptiness and boredom deadening him even as his mind raced as another image of the demon flickered before his mind. 

“How much longer must I wait, Warrior of Twilight?” he pondered. “Our battle will resonate through this star...” 

All he had left was that eikon, Shinryu: a fine prize, its body smoldering with rage and hate. Perhaps if Zenos could find a way to turn that hatred against the demon... oh, that would be a battle to end all others!

“Yes... come to me, Castor van Entialpoh,” Zenos purred, his heart quickening just once. “Give me the battle I’ve craved!” 


End file.
